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banananutmuffin28 · 2 days ago

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can I request for Se-mi x fem reader where the reader is one of the pink triangle guards? Where she protects Se-mi and helped her get out of the game by betraying the other guards.

First ever ask!! Ofc ofc :D

Player Se-Mi x FEM! Guard Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well…this became a lot longer than I anticipated! I hope you all enjoy!

Life has always been cruel to you.

And, you supposed you have been cruel back.

Your parents never cared about you, letting you wander the streets alone until you one day got lost.

You still remembered what happened, even though it transpired years ago.

It was dark out, and in the alleyway where you stood, not even the city lights could really dispel the darkness around you.

Of course, like any child your age you were scared. Your hands had trembled, your lips curled into a sob, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents finally cared enough to rescue you.

But, that never happened, now had it?

You never were a stupid child; you were intimately aware of what horrors could unfold in this world -but you had never really, truly seen it happen firsthand.

Of course, that changed.

There was a clatter of metal against the dirtied cement, a scream, and then before you knew it you were face to face with a sad sod of a man.

Though you barely remembered his words, you would always recall his hands-large and meaty-sinking deep into your delicate shoulders as he shook you with the desperation only a man in his final seconds of life could conjure. He was begging you to...save him, but from what you still hadn't known.

But before you could move, scream, or do anything of the sort, you heard a bang. Skin and flesh alike flew from his forehead, and his eyes rolled back to his skull as he suddenly slumped before you, coating your body with his blood.

And then, the man's limp body was pulled back, and as you cowered there in the dirt, you finally saw the face of the killer.

As he would later admit, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

The man readied his gun...but couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.

And so, instead, he gently ushered you to a black van parked by the side of the road, tied a blindfold over your eyes, and took you to the games.

He pleaded and begged the Front Man to let a child stay with him, arguing that you had no one left. And, in a way, you supposed that was true.

Eventually, the Front Man had agreed, and you would spend your formative years living with the man who saved you.

It was...certainly a sight to behold, watching a child roam the halls that, just hours ago, were soaked in blood.

And, when you were of age, you were granted a mask and an outfit. It was a triangle mask, just like the one of the man who saved you.

In another life, perhaps you would’ve been happy, ridding the world of the trash with you and the man who had saved you.

But again, life struck, and this time it took away him too.

Apparently, he had spared a contestant he was meant to kill.

And, just like that, it was as if your world had crumbled all over again. At first, you were in denial. That man, whom you had grown to love as a father, was a ruthless killer. Surely they had misunderstood the situation? Surely, it was only a matter of time before he would've killed the player?

But, you soon learned that life had no time for your pondering. You would have to move on forward.

Your loss had...changed you. Soon, you would be known as one of the coldest of killers. You would spare no one, and relished in the panicked screams of the players.

After all, these vermin weren't human, right? And, those worms were what took your adoptive father away from you.

Not once did you ever question this sentiment. Sure, sometimes you felt fleeting sympathy, but that had never been enough to stop you from pulling the trigger.

You were a robot. You were ruthless.

But then, you met her.

The first time you two had locked eyes was outside of the games.

You were in a convenience store, buying some snacks and a drink for yourself. Hell, you were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even realized it was your turn to pay until she cleared her throat.

"Hey, are you gonna pay or are you content with keeping your head above the clouds?"

Her voice was...soothing. It wasn't gentle by any means, but something about it stirred something in your heart.

You scrambled back, nearly knocking over the bag of makeup items behind you.

You turned to her, cheeks flushed, trying to regain some ounce of dignity, but it was to no avail. People never talked like that to you anymore; they were either too fearful or simply thought you weren't worth their time.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a grin as she leaned onto the table.

"So...are you going to pay or what?"

You only nodded, too fearful that if you spoke you would sound like a diseased frog. Without even looking back, you slammed the necessary payment onto the counter and hurried out the door.

The girl was only wearing a standard employee uniform.

So how did she look so damn pretty?

Despite that lackluster first meet, though, you had always come back. When you had entered the shop the next day, her eyebrows had furrowed in surprise and a grin danced across her lips.

She set aside the plastic cup she was holding and made her way to the register.

“I hope you don’t run off staring at clouds again,” She drawled, running a hand along the buttons of the register. “What can I get for you today, beautiful?”

How your ice cold heart didn’t explode at that very second was beyond you.

The days passed into weeks and soon, you found yourself visiting the store—her—every other day.

Eventually, you learned her name to be Se-Mi.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi.

Her name dripped from your lips like the smoothest of honey.

You loved her piercings, her posture, and that damned smirk she always had.

She was so kind to you. You savored the quiet nights you'd spend with her out in the park, and whispered her name into your pillow before you slept.

Se-Mi had big, big dreams. Dreams of becoming a rockstar. Dreams of becoming a mechanic. Dreams of surviving this cruel world and making it out on top.

But, despite it all, you always kept her at an arm's length apart. After all, it was almost time for the games to begin. Soon, you would have to leave her to kill once again.

So, on the night before the first game would start, you left her a note on the convenience table where you two first met. You wrote of how you had to go, for your work was grueling and demanding, and you couldn't have her be caught in the crossfire.

You apologized for not meeting in person.

You never said goodbye. You couldn't. She needed to think of you as merely a fleeting presence, lest she catches feelings and finds out you're a killer.

You had planned on shooting your sorrows away.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw her wake up in the games.

Her? No, no, no, she couldn't be one of those disgusting vermin that plagued the streets. Se-Mi was so kind, so brave and headstrong.

She wasn't exactly well-off, but she couldn't have been struggling that much!

Surely, this was a mistake!

But, when you ran to the Front Man and asked him, he simply pulled out her file and handed it to you.

It was not a mistake. In fact, SeMi was drowning in debt.

"I trust this won't be a problem to you?" He asked, leaning back into his plush chair as he swirled the liquor in his cup.

You swallowed.

"Of course not, sir."

The Front Man stood still for a moment, then sighed.

“If you were anyone else, I would shoot you because clearly, this is a conflict of interest and we need to keep these games fair,” He finally said at last, shaking his head. “But…you have more than proved yourself to be loyal to us, to me. I trust you won’t abuse it?”

Your heart stopped when you felt his icy eyes on you. When you nodded, he smiled.

“Good, good. After all, I would hate to see you befall the same fate as 097.”

The Front Man motioned for you to leave.

“Do not fail me. 098.”

—

As you left the room, you could feel your heart racing. All of a sudden, it was so much harder to breathe, to walk.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced in your mind, though one drowned out the rest.

You wouldn't be kind to her. Your brief time with her meant nothing; after all, she wasn't human.

Right?

When you stepped into the area of the First Game, you could barely keep yourself upright. Your hands trembled, immediately flying to your face to make sure that your mask was still on. Your legs nearly buckled when you watched as Se-Mi enter the Red Light Green Light

The gun felt ten times heavier in your hands.

During the duration of the game, you would not shoot her.

Of course, you tried to tell yourself that you weren't giving her special treatment!

Everyone trembled in the games; if you shot everyone who shook slightly there would be no one left to inherit the prize! You were still impassive, it was still equal.

You didn't care about her. You never had.

But...like most lies people tell themselves, it came apart in the quiet of the night. Your fear for her echoed in every beat of your heart, in every gasping breath you took. You saw her lifeless body in the shadows, watched as bullets tore themselves into her skin and blood ran down her wounds.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi. You couldn't let her die.

When the second game commenced, you could hardly suppress your nervousness as you watched her play Flying Stone.

It was a difficult game, after all.

And oh, when she passed through the finish line, you couldn't help but throw your hands in the air-much to the chagrin of your co-guards.

They stared at you questioningly, causing terror to sift in your heart.

During the third game, your eyes had met.

It was only for a split second, but feeling her gaze on you made you feel so...exposed.

Your cheeks grew hot and your hands felt slippery.

You loathed how she looked at you, like you were some sort of monster.

Though, you supposed she wasn't quite wrong.

When you watched as Player 230 and his lackey dragged another man away, leaving Se-Mi alone, it felt as if your heart was breaking. It took every willpower in your body not to shoot them on the spot for doing such a thing.

Though, that willpower still wasn't enough for you not to intervene in some way.

After making sure none of the guards were watching, you waved at her in the shadows. When her attention turned to you, you acted. Frantically, you pointed towards a trembling duo in the far right corner of the carousel.

The clock read ten seconds. If Se-Mi rushed, she could make it in time.

And, she did.

As you watched the door clamp shut behind her, a whirlwind of emotions appeared in your gut. What you just did couldn’t be chalked up to strictly following the rules.

You had helped her. You had tilted the odds to your favor by alerting her to safety. You had done the very thing the Front Man had warned you not to do.

So, why was it that you could barely summon any regret?

After Mingle had ended, you turned to leave, but stopped when you noticed Se-Mi trailing after you. Her arms were crossed together, and she chewed her bottom lip.

And then, she gave you the tiniest of nods.

Thank you, she mouthed.

You felt like your heart was exploding all over again.

For a brief moment, you thought that what you were doing was enough. You could oversee the games, and remain relatively impassive until Se-Mi was in danger, in which you could then give her a gentle nudge.

But then you remembered the next game.

The Special Game.

This time, instead of automated machinery, it was forks and fists. Instead of children’s games, it was pure, human violence. Instead of the threat of a bullet piercing through their skull, the only thing that would keep them going was their raw, unbridled rage for wanting to survive. Revenge would be enacted, and rivalries settled.

You couldn’t leave Se-Mi alone. There were too many unknown variables. Se-Mi never held back her tongue—it was one of the things you loved about her, in fact—but tonight it might also be what kills her.

Again, that terrible image of Se-Mi’s bloodied corpse popped into your mind. If she died, it would be all your fault because you let it happen.

Fear flooded your veins.

You won’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose someone else in this damned world. You couldn’t lose her.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the last of players were ushered from the bloodied bathrooms, you stared at the camera glued to the ceiling of your room. You knew someone was watching you on the other side, waiting.

Instinctively, you draped a blanket over your hands.

You couldn’t let them see how much they trembled.

Before you had meant Se-Mi, you never really cared about the camera in your walls. Sure, the lack of privacy was annoying, but in your mind, it also served as evidence to the higher ups that you were completely and utterly loyal to them.

In a way, they had saved you, after all.

But now?

The way the camera was angled—tilted so that it could observe every inch of your room—made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the air was being choked out of your lungs. Obsessively, you grabbed your mask and held it up your face.

If you ran into the room and protected Se-Mi, you wouldn’t get another chance. The entire organization would be after you—he would be after you.

Were you really willing to betray everything you’ve known for a girl you’ve only known for months?

But then, you remembered the time you spent with her. You remember those starry nights, those quiet evenings, and those chaotic days that had you sweating with a stupid grin on your face.

Se-Mi made you feel alive. With her, you were no longer a robot, but a person, free laugh and giggle whenever you’d want without fear of losing face or risking a punishment.

It was then that intercom rang, its cheery tone a stark contrast to the indecision and uncertainty that broiled in your gut.

“Soldiers, please get ready,” It sang.

You let out a sigh and stood up, eyes trained to camera, to the Front Man.

Your decision was made.

—

The stomps of the other guards echoed across the corridors. You stood motionless, a gun in hand, as you pressed your hands against the cold concrete walls hiding you.

Soon, they would realize your absence and a search would be dispatched. But, for now, you were invisible.

Quietly, you slinked to a shadowy corner of the room. When you heard footsteps approaching, you ducked down and readied your gun.

Within moments, you saw the growing shadow of the manager. You crouched down, waiting for him to turn, then—

Without giving your doubt any time to fester, you leaped out of the shadows and pressed the gun to his head. Before he could shout, you shoved him against a wall and pulled out the pistol from his hoister.

“Move, and you die,” You snarl.

You watched as the man stammered, recognizing the tell-tale sign of fear alighting in his eyes through the mask.

“Y-you! What are you—“

You clamped his mouth shut.

“Shut up and take me to the players.”

The man trembled in your hands and a choked gasp escaped his lips. But, with another nudge of your gun, you got him to move.

When he started marching to the double decked doors, you smacked his back.

“Not there,” You whisper, grabbing his collar. “Take me through the tunnels.”

The man stiffened. His lips twisted into a question, then froze.

He nodded, and began walking the opposite direction.

From your adolescent years spent in the games, you had picked up upon your share of rumors. You heard of soldiers purposefully missing to harvest the organs of the eliminated, and you heard that there was a secret escape hatch hidden somewhere among the concrete walls.

But, what had drawn your attention the most, was the rumor that there was another way to enter the main lobby where the players slept.

A young, curious you had traversed through the halls and found that very corridor, though you soon realized that only a manager’s mask could open the door.

Now, an older and more jaded you stood in front of the same very doors, caressing the steel barrier with a new sense of urgency.

You had to move. Fast.

Already, you were hearing the beginnings of a brawl: A thump here, a curse there.

If you wanted any chance of saving Se-Mi, you had to act now.

Quickly, you shoved the man in front of the motion sensors and gestured for him to gaze into the center. It whirred softly, and then—

“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you knocked the manager out, and then ran into the tunnels. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t care.

The screams of fighting and flesh tearing bounced across the walls. At another time, you wouldn’t have cared, but right now, the sound terrified you to the bone

Soon, you saw a regular wooden door and immediately twisted the doorknob.

Immediately, you were met with the sight of utter brutality. Corpses littered the floors and blood soaked the survivors. Some screamed at the sight of you while others fell back, eyes trained on the gun in your hands.

“Where’s Se-“ You cut yourself off with a cough. “Where's Player 380?”

The woman closest to you fell to the floor.

“Do…do you mean Se-Mi?”

Before you could respond, you sensed footsteps approaching behind you. Without skipping a beat, you turned and coldly shot the two men creeping behind you.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, you turned back and nodded.

The woman stared at you, more frazzled than ever. Instinctively, she stepped back.

“I…she should be over there,” She murmured, pointing to a corned of the room.

You nodded.

“Thank you.”

As you ran, you tried to ignore the surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Most fell back when you aimed your gun at them, but some looked at you curiously.

You glanced back at the double doors, and cursed.

The cameras had no doubt exposed your location to the others. Already, guards were pouring in, guns at the ready.

You were running on borrowed time.

You rounded a corner and stayed near the shadows. Then, you heard a piercing scream that belonged to Se-Mi.

Gasping, you bolted towards the voice. There, you saw a man shoving her against the wall, sinking something into her neck.

You didn’t stop to think about it. You shot him in an instant.

Se-Mi fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Blood was still flowing freely from the glass shard that lay pierced in her jugular.

Fuck, you would have to take care of that later.

You looked back. The gunshot had alerted the other guards, who were now running to you, screaming.

Running in raw adrenaline, you hoisted an injured Se-Mi into your arms and zig zagged across the pillars holding the bunk beds. Bullets flew by you and one grazed your shoulder.

You bit your lip, but didn’t make a noise.

“What are you doing?” Se-Mi demanded, fear lacing the edges of your tone. Her arms wrapped around your neck, angling her head in a way that rested against your shoulders.

You stiffened.

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

The second you whispered the words, you saw recognition flash in her eyes.

The beginning of your name was being murmured from Se-Mi, almost questionably, but the sound of footsteps approaching.

Cursing, you hid behind a pillar, and when their attention was drawn elsewhere you dashed to the corridor from where you entered.

The two of you were still breathing heavily when you set her down in the middle of the tunnel. You had locked the door, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you and broke in.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “A…are you hurt anywhere, Se-Mi?”

She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands together. Her lip piercing glinted in the dull light, and for a few seconds you were enchanted by her. Blood clung onto her tracker, and you knew she hadn’t showered in days, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

And then, she laughed.

Startled, you stepped back.

“Am I hurt?” She wheezed, and you immediately cringed at your question. “Of course I’m fucking hurt. I have this bitch of a wound on my jugular and I’m covered with cuts. Everything hurts like hell!”

Despite yourself, a blush raged on your cheeks.

“I-I, okay, that was a stupid question-“

“Terrible, even,” She chimed in, the faintest of smirks curling at the edges of her lips.

You nodded, “Yes, terrible and dumb but-“

You gestured towards her legs. “Are there any that would hinder you from running?”

Se-Mi frowned.

“No, not really.”

You blew out a breath.

“Good, because if we want to escape this place we need to be able to move. Fast.”

Gently, you helped pry the shard from her neck. It had stopped bleeding now, but it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound.

“We have to get going, now,” You muttered, and started marching towards the other end of the hall.

“Wait,” Se-Mi hissed, tugging you back. Her voice was softer now, but still held conviction. “Aren’t you going to…explain yourself?”

You stopped, dread pooling in your gut.

When you turned to look at her, you couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I…fuck,” You glanced at the door, fearful that it would break open at any moment. “Se-Mi, we should do this later.”

You swallowed.

“I promise that when we get out of here, I’ll come clean and explain everything. But, right now we need to hurry and run while they still can’t find us.”

Se-Mi stepped closer. She laced your fingers together and flicked your mask.

“Can you still take this off,” She murmured, tugging you closer. “I want to see you. Not some…pink clown trying to cosplay the Nintendo loading screen.”

You let out a snort. “Pink clowns? I’m rather offended.”

Se-Mi smiled coyly. “Don’t spit on your luck, honey, that was my nicest of comparisons. And besides.”

She paused, her face growing softer. “I want to see you. I…I missed your face.”

That blush on your cheeks was now a raging inferno.

But, before you could reply, she added quickly, “Getting that letter really hurt my feelings, you know? I need to see your face again to make it easier for me to imagine giving you a nice, clean punch after all you did.”

You bowed your head. Despite the mirth, you could sense genuine pain hiding underneath. You knew you had a lot to make up for.

“I…understand.”

Tenderly, you unclasped your mask. Then, you slid down the jet black face covering, revealing your face to her.

Se-Mi gasped softly.

“It really is you,” She whispered.

Se-Mi cupped your face carefully, as if she was worried you were merely an illusion in her mind. You leaned into her touch, humming.

And then you felt soft lips on your own.

A gasp left your lips at the sudden contact, but then she kissed you again and suddenly all your thoughts vanished.

Roughly, she pinned you against the wall and laced your fingers with hers. The noise that left your lips was embarrassing.

When she finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your cheeks were blazing, and you were sure even the tips of your ears and neck were tinted with pink.

Se-Mi smirked at you, and pulled you by the collar. Just then, you heard pounding on the walls.

“You sure have a lot to make up for me once we’re safe,” She cooed. “Put your mask back on and lead the way, beautiful.”

You nodded dumbly, and started running.

A/N: Oh my God. I still can’t believe this ask grew so much, haha! If you guys want a part 2, please do not hesitate to let me know! I hope you liked it!

#squid game fanfic #squid game #squid game season 2 #Se-Mi x reader #My fics #Se Mi x reader #player 380 x reader #Ask Answered

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mysticeclipses · 3 days ago

Text

Comforts For The Troubled Mind

This fic was inspired by this thought from @nekrosmos

Well, since my last fic was Nik comforting Price, I thought to myself, 'What about one where Price is comforting Nik?' Can you tell I'm developing an obsession?

This had to be one of the most exhausting days Nikolai had experienced in a very long time, and that was saying something considering how much running around he had been doing these past few weeks. As an international arms dealer, the leader of Chimera, and so called ‘taxi service’ for Task Force 141, running back and forth between countries in his trusty Black Hawk helicopter became the norm for his life after so many years in his line of work. Yet with so many years of experience under his belt, Nikolai could feel these past few weeks really starting to weigh down on his shoulders, and today was the final straw that made him realize just how much he was exhausting himself for the sake of everyone else around him that needed his help.

Waking up during the early morning hours at Urzikstan, Nikolai freshened up to the best of his ability before quickly busying himself with a meeting with his fellow Chimera operators, having spent the last few days picking up Krueger, Syd, and Yegor so they could join Farah and Iskra at their base. Trying to do a virtual meeting with all of them scattered across the globe just would not work out well, so of course, Nikolai volunteered to fly out and grab everyone instead of having them spend an unnecessary amount of money on plane tickets to Urzikstan. A bit tiring for the man, but he had spent longer in his helicopter, so this was nothing at the end of the day. During the meeting, where they had been trying to come up with a plan on how to counter an attack made by Al Qatala in recent weeks, Nikolai couldn’t help but be constantly glancing at his phone.

Nikolai was anticipating a phone call or message from one of his associates in Germany about an arms deal that he needed to be at, yet his men had been radio silent, which wasn’t a good sign for what was to come in Nik’s mind. Still, he tried to push away the negative thoughts and put more of his focus on the task at hand, working to devise a plan that would work regardless as to whether or not he would still be around to fight with his team. When that phone call finally came through, Nikolai would finally allow himself to breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that his buyer was now on his way to the meet point, turning his attention back to the papers Farah had laid out on a table as they put the final touches on their plan. Only a few small details had to be changed now that Nikolai had his confirmation call, and once everything was in place, he said his farewells to everyone before rushing off to his helicopter under the morning sun.

With Farah having assured Nikolai that she would take care of returning everyone back home once they were finished with their plan, he assumed that this would finally take some stress off his shoulders as he headed towards Germany to get this arms deal over and done with. Oh how wrong he had been. The flight from Urzikstan to Germany took longer than Nikolai had initially thought it would, making him regret not eating something while still on Farah’s base when he finally landed, the sun having neared its peak in the sky. Checking on the goods that were stored in the back of the helicopter, Nikolai couldn’t help but grumble as he saw the bullets for the gun he was trading were now scattered around the inside of the briefcase, now having to spend precious minutes searching for all of them and tucking them back into the right pocket. Nikolai wouldn’t stand delivering products that didn’t represent his professionalism and the efforts he went through to obtain such weapons.

After giving the gun a final once-over just to make sure it was still intact, Nikolai shut the briefcase and hopped out of his helicopter, making his way to the small town where he would be meeting with his client. Of course, Nikolai had to stop at a small corner shop to grab something to eat before he even dared join the meeting, as a hungry Nikolai was a snippy Nikolai, and he knew the deal would be impossible to make if he was in such a state. One drei im weggla and a franzbrötchen later, and Nikolai’s hunger was satiated for the time being, quickly checking his face in a window to make sure he had no food remnants before finally coming up to the right building. It took long enough for Nikolai to get here, smoothing out any hairs that were out of place before heading inside and making his way to the meeting room, taking a mental note of any people he passed by as well. Even after so many years of being an arms dealer and having gained both respect and fear from those around him in this underworld, Nikolai still wouldn’t risk letting his guard down during trades.

Stepping past the metal door, Nikolai instinctively squared his shoulders as he saw the four men on the other side of the table, immediately picking out the supposed ‘leader’ from the quartet as he took a seat next to his own associates. This was exactly what Nikolai had expected to see, but what he didn’t expect was for each of the men to be of different nationalities, something he picked up on as he listened to their hushed conversations. The ‘leader’ was German, as expected, yet the man on his right was French, the man closest to his left was Filipino, and the man farthest to his left was Ecuadorian. None of those facts were issues to Nikolai, he had worked with people all over the globe for multiple jobs, so he was used to being in groups where no two people had the same background. No, the issue Nikolai noticed was the fact that they were much more keen on speaking in their native languages, and only their native languages. Again, Nikolai didn’t have an issue with that, and he could even understand why they would do so, as it was easier to say what you didn’t want others to know by speaking in other languages.

Even though Nikolai could understand what they were saying, he didn’t anticipate having to switch between German, French, Filipino, and Spanish when he wanted to converse with them about the deal. He had to repeat the same sentences four times over, speaking to each of the men individually instead of as a group, which was stressing his already stressed mind. Nikolai had already started growing a small headache from switching back and forth between English and Arabic back in Urzikstan, and now he had to go back and forth between four different languages? It would be a miracle if Nikolai didn’t leave this meeting without a much more aggressive headache. But of course, as fate would have it, Nikolai just wasn’t able to get a break.

That headache, which had started out as nothing more than a dull pulsing in the back of his skull that was easy to ignore, had now grown into an all-encompassing pressure around Nikolai’s head that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. Switching between four different languages wasn’t helping in the slightest, but what’s worse was the fact that the man who had called Nikolai for this deal didn’t even have the money to afford the damn thing! What a complete waste of time this had been, and Nikolai wasn’t afraid to make the sentiment known, cursing the four men out in all eight languages he knew before handing the suitcase with the gun off to one of his associates so he could leave. Of course, the men weren’t exactly happy with Nikolai’s words, nor were they happy to be leaving without the gun, so what else was there to do but open fire on Nikolai and his associates in a desperate attempt to get what they wanted? What a big mistake that was, as Nikolai was never unarmed walking into deals, and all it took were a few well-trained shots before the four men were nothing more than new tallies tacked onto his already extensive tally list of kills. And what a waste of four useful bullets too.

With a heavy exhale, Nikolai simply waved his associates in the direction of the bodies before leaving the room, wiping a few drops of blood off his leather jacket in the process. He trusted his associates to take care of putting the gun in a safe place until they got a new buyer, so now, all that was left for Nikolai right now was to get back to the United Kingdom and the base of Task Force 141 to finally get a break. Another flight that would last several hours wasn’t something that sounded overly thrilling to Nikolai, especially not with such an aggressive headache, but he didn’t exactly have any other choices. At least Nikolai had wisely snagged a couple bottles of water before making the trek back to his helicopter, and he took some time to enjoy the scenery as well since, to his knowledge, he didn’t have to rush anywhere. The fresh air was helping Nikolai’s headache a bit, though he would’ve preferred to have some sort of pain killer. Oh well, at least he could look forward to an ice pack and some peace and quiet once he got back to the Task Force base, maybe even a good meal so long as their fridge had actual food in it and not just week old rations.

The flight back to the United Kingdom was just as uneventful as Nikolai had imagined it would be, and he wouldn’t have it any other way to be honest. Even though the long flight was tiring, and Nikolai’s joints were definitely starting to feel the ache from sitting in the same chair for so many hours, he was just relieved to finally be back to a place of familiarity. And perhaps he was also looking forward to spending some quality time with a certain captain. It didn’t take long for Nikolai’s thoughts to be consumed by John Price and everything he had been missing about the man during these long weeks away. His hearty chuckle, his strong arms, his gentle eyes, the scratch of his facial hair when they shared a tender kiss, the warmth that filled the bed when they laid together, the gentle crinkling of his eyes when he smiled, the healthy thumping of his heart that easily lulled Nikolai to sleep, the way he just made Nikolai feel so at ease. God, Nikolai couldn’t wait much longer to get back on base.

Thankfully, Nikolai managed to land on the base of Task Force 141 as the sun was reaching the end of its descent, painting the sky in gentle shades of greens, blues, and purples with only hints of yellows and oranges. It truly was a gorgeous sight to behold, and Nikolai wished he could share it with John, hopping out of his helicopter to finally stretch his tired joints out. It didn’t take long for Nikolai to notice Price and his team were missing from base, though he just assumed they were out on an op, looking around his hanger for some pain killers he knew were stashed somewhere among his tools and spare helicopter parts. Maybe Nikolai should’ve taken some time to organize the place now that he really thought about it, as he was struggling to find those painkillers, and he could feel his headache coming back thanks to the sounds of tools being knocked into helicopter parts. Still, Nikolai tried to think positively as he continued digging around the disorganization. A warm meal, a comfortable bed, a nice movie, John in his arms, maybe even a bit of stress relief if you could catch his drift. Nikolai wanted to feel John’s bare skin beneath his fingers, John’s well-built muscles in his palms, John’s warm breath against his neck, John’s quiet pants in his ear, John’s ass against his-“Nikolai!”

Laswell’s voice startled Nikolai out of his thoughts, quickly attempting to stand up just to smack his head against the underside of the cabinet he had been searching in, letting out a string of muttered curses before getting out from the cabinet and standing to face Laswell. “Ah, Laswell, is nice to see you again.” Nikolai grunted as he rubbed the top of his head, trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice as he noticed a paper in Laswell’s hand that was now held out in his direction, taking it hesitantly before looking at what she had written. “The team needs your help getting back from an operation. We got false information about the location of some stolen weapons and they’re pinned down under enemy fire. You need to get them out before enemies close in on them.” Of course, Nikolai shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up about finally getting to relax. This was Task Force 141 afterall. “Understood. I will have them back shortly.” Nikolai simply nodded as Laswell before turning around and getting back into his helicopter, punching the coordinates into the gps before taking off for, hopefully, the last time today. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes for Nikolai to make it to the destination, and he knew he was getting close thanks to the sounds of gunfire, which was doing wonders for his headache.

Every gunshot made Nikolai’s head throb in pain, and as he lowered the helicopter to where John and his team were pinned down, the throbbing continued to intensify until it felt like thousands of hammers were constantly coming down on his skull. At least Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap got into the helicopter quickly, allowing Nikolai to take back to the air and get them back to base without much of a hassle, though the sound of bullets hitting the helicopter rang in his ears for much longer than he appreciated. Nikolai simply offered the team of grunt to acknowledge their presence before spacing out for the rest of the flight, his body acting without thought once he had landed back on base. Hopping out of the helicopter, Nikolai was already walking back to his shared room with Price hot on his tail, the man speaking so fervently about the operation that it was hard to really understand with his head still pounding so aggressively. Those painkillers were forgotten about as Nikolai opened the door to their room and kicked his boots off, collapsing onto the bed without a second thought before rubbing his temples to try and reduce the intensity of his headache turned migraine.

Nikolai could still hear Price moving around and talking about the operation, but he was barely even paying attention, only realizing Price was talking to him when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Oi, Nik, you alright? You haven’t said a word since we landed, and your face is tense.” Price muttered with concern in his tone, reaching out to place a hand on the side of Nikolai’s head as well. “Ah, извинения, my dear. It has был долгий день and I cannot концентрат well.” Now Price knew something was up considering how Nikolai was slurring his speech and he was switching back and forth between English and Russian without realizing. Patting Nikolai’s head, Price stood up and left the room for a moment, coming back a moment later with a freshly cracked ice pack. Wordlessly, Price placed the ice pack on Nikolai’s forehead, noticing how the tension in his expression melted into relief almost instantly. Price knew that Nikolai likely wasn’t going to be up for much of a conversation, so he took it upon himself to take care of the tired Russian for the rest of the night; closing the curtains, turning off the lights, laying out some comfortable clothes, and slowly closing the door so he could place an order for food and look for a movie.

Around 30 minutes later, the food John had ordered finally got to base, and he managed to pick out a movie from the large collection that Nik had amassed over the years. Would John be able to keep up with anything going on? No, not likely, but he knew it was one of Nik’s favorite movies, so he’d manage. When John finally stepped back into the room, he was surprised to see Nik hadn’t moved a bit from where he was laying on the bed, the change of clothes remaining untouched for the time being, and the only sign that the man was even still awake was the subtle twitching of his fingers. This was a side of Nik that John rarely ever saw, but every time it showed up, it concerned John all the same. Setting the food and movie to the side for now, John shook Nik several times to get his full attention. “C’mon Nik, you know you’ll feel better once you get out of that jacket and jumpsuit. Get changed, I already got food and a movie for us.” It took a bit, but John managed to get Nik to get up from the bed and change, putting the ice pack to the side as he worked to get the movie ready on his laptop.

Once Nik was changed and the movie was ready to play, John unboxed the food and climbed into bed next to Nik, guiding the man’s head against his chest before handing him the food and setting the laptop between the two of them near the foot of the bed. John had ordered two plates of fish and chips, a bit cliche, but it was the one thing he knew would get the least amount of complaints from Nik. John made sure Nik was comfortable before pressing play and nestling the fingers of his left hand into the thick black hair, beginning to idly scratch and rub at the man’s scalp while eating with his right hand. Hearing Nik let out a deep groan of satisfaction, John couldn’t help but smile as he felt Nik slowly be reduced into a puddle of relaxation in mere minutes, the food now forgotten for the time being as he simply relished in the feeling of John’s fingers working the migraine away until it was nothing more than a fleeting afterthought. Still, Nik couldn’t help but lean into John’s touch even after his migraine had receded, the movie simply becoming background noise for the both of them as the night carried on.

Eventually, both of their meals had been finished, the two men simply basking in each other's presences even after the movie had ended and John had nudged his laptop shut with his foot. The silence did wonders for the both of them, and Nik was grateful that he could finally let his mind relax. No words had to be exchanged between the two men, John could tell what Nik needed simply by looking at him, and he was grateful for that. After the hell he had been through, it was nice to simply be taken care of by his lover, even if it wasn’t how he had initially imagined the night going. As John allowed himself to doze off, Nik nuzzled closer, tangling their legs together just so he could feel more of John’s body against his. John had always been Nik’s rock, his grounding force in life, and it was moments like these that confirmed to Nik that he held a special place in John’s heart. And he’d be damned to leave that space empty.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #cod #john price #pricenik

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little-jana · 3 days ago

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"Tension and Snowstorms"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: tension, kissing

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A snowstorm leads to Spencer and Reader being consumed by their ongoing tension.

The case had wrapped up late, as always. Everyone was exhausted, but a mix of relief and anticipation had settled over the team. New Year’s Eve was only hours away, and all I wanted was to get back home, put the past few days behind me, and enjoy some quiet time.

But fate had other plans.

The storm had hit harder than expected, and with the snow piling up outside, the airline had canceled all flights. That’s how I found myself in the hotel lobby, looking at Spencer Reid, who had that familiar expression of uncertainty on his face. We were the only two left from the team, the others already having found alternate routes or heading to their homes by car.

Spencer looked over at me, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses, his usual awkwardness radiating off him. “I… guess it looks like we’re stuck here for another night.”

I nodded, my mind a little clouded by the unexpected turn of events. I hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, just the two of us. I’d always been drawn to him, but there was this silent, unspoken tension that had been building for months. There were moments, brief and fleeting, when I’d catch him looking at me a little too long, when his eyes would linger on my lips longer than necessary, when his voice would drop just enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

But now, with the hotel practically empty, it felt different. The air was thick with something I couldn’t quite name, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute.

“Want to grab dinner?” I asked, trying to break the quiet.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’m starving. Just… let me change real quick.”

I gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach fluttered. “Alright, I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

“Sounds good,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

I walked away, my mind racing. There was something about the way he said that, like he was a little too eager, too nervous. It had been building for a while now—the attraction between us, the moments of stolen glances, the lingering touches when we’d pass things to each other, when we’d brush hands. But we’d never acted on it. He was still haunted by his past, and I was unsure if he’d ever want to cross that line.

I tried to shake it off as I returned to my room. A nice dinner with Spencer would be fine. Nothing more. After all, he was a colleague. A brilliant, quirky colleague who happened to be incredibly attractive. But I didn’t want to acknowledge that too much.

When I met him in the lobby later, I could see the tension in his posture. He was fidgeting with his glasses, a telltale sign that he was nervous. “Ready?” I asked, my voice softer than usual.

Spencer cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, uh, just trying to decide if I should keep my jacket on or not.”

I took a step closer, resisting the urge to laugh at how nervous he was. “It’s freezing outside, Spencer. I think keeping it on is a good idea.”

He glanced at me, a little flush creeping up his neck. “Right, yeah, I was just thinking—never mind. Lead the way?”

I smiled, though it felt a little strained. “Sure.”

The restaurant wasn’t far, and as we walked together, the snow began to fall, creating a blanket of silence around us. It was quiet, and all I could hear was the crunch of our footsteps in the snow and the occasional hum of a car passing by. Spencer walked just a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine more often than was necessary. Each time it happened, my heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else making me feel this way.

By the time we sat down for dinner, the atmosphere was even more charged. I couldn’t quite look him in the eye for too long, but I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his profile. The way his dark hair fell just right, how his lips moved when he spoke. I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart, as though it were picking up on the tension between us. Spencer, for his part, seemed just as affected. He was constantly shifting in his seat, picking at the edges of his napkin, his eyes darting toward mine before quickly looking away.

Dinner dragged on, but not in the usual way. Every moment felt like it was stretching, and the spaces between our words seemed longer, filled with something unsaid. I had the feeling that Spencer was keeping himself in check, maybe out of some sort of fear. Fear of what, though? Of me? Of his feelings? I had no idea. But it was maddening.

By the time we paid the check, my nerves were shot. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the proximity to him, but something inside me felt like it might snap.

We returned to the hotel, the hallway eerily quiet. Spencer had his hands in his pockets, and I could tell he was trying to keep his distance. But when we reached the door to my room, he paused, hesitating just outside it.

“Are you, uh…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “are you sure you want to go to bed already?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. There was something in his voice, a slight crack in his usual composed tone. I wasn’t sure if it was a hint or if he was just trying to make small talk to fill the silence.

“I’m not really tired,” I said, a little too quickly. “But I’m not really sure what else to do either.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered to mine, the tension between us palpable. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly toward me. “You know, I was thinking we could—”

“Spencer,” I cut him off, my heart racing. “We don’t have to do this.”

He froze. “Do what?”

I stared at him, the distance between us shrinking with every passing second. “We both know there’s something here, but I don’t want to make things complicated. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know how to do this with you, okay?” His voice was strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that there isn’t something between us, but I can’t anymore.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched his struggle. “What do you want from me, Spencer?”

He took a step closer, his face just inches from mine now. I could feel his breath on my skin, the heat of his body, and it made my heart race. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “But I want you. I can’t pretend that I don’t.”

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and unspoken for so long. And in that moment, I knew that whatever had been building between us, whatever tension had been stretching thin for months, was about to break.

Before I could respond, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing the side of my face. It was soft and careful, but it ignited something deep inside me. He leaned in just enough that our lips were barely a breath away, and I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “But I can’t hold back anymore.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t slow or tentative. It was desperate, urgent, as though we were both craving something we’d been denying ourselves for too long. The tension had snapped, and now all that was left was the heat and the electricity between us, crackling and alive.

His hands were on my back, pulling me closer, and I responded eagerly, my hands threading into his hair, tangling in the soft strands. I had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care. All I knew was that Spencer Reid was kissing me like he’d been wanting to for far too long.

And I was more than willing to let him.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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gingerteawrites · 2 days ago

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Crimson Blossom - Rengoku Kyojuro

A/N: Happy new year my loves! May this new year bring many blessings to you. I had this idea a couple of days ago after thinking about how ironic it would be for someone like Kyojuro to not be able to be in the sunlight. It turned into something else from this initial idea, but I do hope you enjoy this little story. It is also my first time writing anything supernatural so please go easy on me.

Content: Vampire!Rengoku x female reader, mentions of sexual harassment, intense fear, blood.

Word count: 2.6K

Dividers by: @omi-resources

Life in the entertainment district was far from conventional. For any outsider, the functioning of the city was completely disorienting. One that slept during the day and came alive at night. Still, the allure of the pleasure district brought in countless people, whether it was for a short bout or more permanent stays

You, however, were somewhat of an oddity even in this place. A female apothecary who operated outside of any family establishment was seldom ever seen. However, there was a need for the services you provided. Most healers in the district were men, and many had done their fair share to repulse the ladies, who constituted most of the clientele.

Whether it was to help with pregnancies, infections or injuries, your assortment of skills always came clutch in times of need.

You left your last patient for the evening with a concoction that was supposed to help tame her fever. Life in a brothel brought little respite, and the girl was frankly too young to be working at the establishment. But so were countless others.

This was the entertainment district. Women were commodities to be traded and discarded, and you had no power to change that.

Stepping into the cool evening air, you adjusted the wool shawl around you neck and looked up at the sky. The temperatures were dropping even more rapidly than you had anticipated. No time would pass before people came knocking at your small home’s door for help with cold tonics and other remedies.

Walking through the streets, you observed the buzz of men appraising the courtesans that stood and smiled coyly on the balconies, as well as the thrum of vendors and the chimes they carried around. The district was at its peak of activity. A commotion that faded into a dull silence as you retreated further away from the city center.

Your home was perched on the outskirts of town, close enough to the forest for your foraging purposes, but still within city bounds. You usually took walks like these easy, going over your patients’ ailments, treatment strategies and things that needed to be restocked in your head.

But today those thoughts were interrupted by something. Someone. Who took every turn you took, walking unnaturally fast, and causing a slow panic to settle into your bones as you too, picked up the pace. Someone was following you.

After a few more minutes of this silent dread, hoping the person would somehow tire of trailing you, the steps behind you started hitting the ground with more intensity. And you knew. The chase was on. So without further thought, you picked up your feet and took off running with all the energy you had.

You never considered yourself to be the active type. And you cursed that lack of athleticism right now. You took every turn and fork in the narrow streets in hopes of losing your attacker, but the man followed insistently. No longer quiet, but now cursing at you to stop. Spewing about how he was going to catch you. Hurt you.

Your lungs stung from inhaling the frigid air and your eyes watered from the wind blowing in your face. But you kept running.

Until the chase landed you at an impasse. There it was, a dead end. You turned around and faced the man pursuing you. He also paused, and you heard a sinister snicker escape his lips. It was dark, and thick clouds hid the moonlight, but you could make out his imposing statute. You wouldn’t be able to physically outmatch him. He stalked slowly towards you, while you scanned for any opening to escape, eyes darting around in the darkness.

“If you’re looking for a courtesan, you’re walking in the wrong direction,” you yell, expression hostile.

The man laughed, his grin holding nothing but mischief.

“Why would I have to pay for used goods when I can have what I want right here?” your lip curled in disgust.

As soon as he was close enough and reached to grab you, you saw your chance. Ducking under his arm, you readied yourself for a mad dash. But unfortunately for you, your foot slipped.

You crashed into the ground head first, and screamed when you felt the man’s hand grip your arms.

“Let go!” You yelled, thrashing wildly in his hold.

“Shut up!” He replied through gritted teeth, trying to get you still enough to peel away the layers of your thick clothes. You yelled for help, coming face to face with the reality of what was happening.

This could not be happening.

Your head was pounding, and your limbs hurt, his weight pushing down on you. But you wouldn’t go without a fight. You spat in his face and you heard him groan and swear.

His hand clamped over your mouth to silence your screams, but you bit down on his fingers with all your might. The man jerked back with a yelp.

"You little bitch!" He drew back his hand to strike your face, and you gritted your teeth, bracing for the blow.

But the impact never came.

Instead, you felt the weight lifted from your body in a flash, the man’s body hitting the wall you were just against with a sickening splat. You scramble to sit up, taking in shallow breaths, registering the presence of someone else, back turned to you.

His hair was like a blazing sun, yellow from the roots, unfurling into a fiery red and burnt black at the tips. He turned his head towards you and you saw it. His blood red eyes and fangs, peeking out when he offers you a smile.

With no further hesitation, you take off. This time, your legs are steady enough as you dash away to your house, not stopping to take a break or even look back. You collapse on the floor of your home, thoughts racing almost as quickly as your heart. What even was that?

You awoke in the same spot you had fallen asleep at on your floor, with a pounding headache and a dull ache spreading across limbs to match.

The problem with running a one-woman business was that… well… one woman was in charge of everything. And that was you.

You had barely taken care of the dried blood on your face and the gash on your forehead that throbbed incessantly when you heard frantic knocks at your door.

People needed care. And for most, you were the only way to get that care. You sometimes thought of actually starting to charge for your services. You operated mostly on donations. Which was the reason why the city doctors lived in lavish lofts and you did not.

But when you saw a struggling person begging for help, all those thoughts vanished. People needed care.

You dragged yourself outside, fighting every fiber of your being that told you to stay put. You would not neglect your duty.

It was a long day of consultations, making cold medicine and applying poultices. By the time you made your way home, the intensity of your aches had all but doubled. You went through your cabinets in search of anything to relieve the throbbing pains.

Of all times?

You sank to the floor with a sigh. You were out of practically everything. Curse you from the previous weekend who had put off going to forage the medicinal herbs.

Most of the plants you commonly used were capricious things, refusing to grow in your garden no matter how much you tried your hand at cultivation. So they needed to be searched for with intent and harvested in the wild. You reached for your leather satchel and sickle, shakily rising to your feet.

There was a moonflower patch not too far into the woods. They weren't fully in season, but you were sure you could find some. Mild analgesic with slight hallucinatory side effects. Not the best, but that ought to do the job for now.

You clutched the tools close and triple-checked to make sure no one was following before you stepped onto the well-worn path into the woods. The last thing that you needed was the presence of a man, or any other creature, regardless of their intentions.

The moonlit woods were anything but quiet. You heard the steady clicks of insects, rustling of small animals dashing at the sound of your steps, and wind whistling through the trees. You continued with great effort, tracing your steps in the map of your mind.

Finally finding a small patch of the pearl-tinted flowers, you breathed out your relief. In a rehearsed motion, you crouched down and drew your sickle to slice off the blooms, and then dug lightly to unearth the roots. The task took longer than you liked, but you pushed on through the discomfort, collecting a few more than were needed for one dosage. Might as well get a good stock, right?

“You’re bleeding,” a breath ghosted against your neck and your heart dropped to your stomach. You swung around, brandishing your sickle with both hands in offense, but the owner of the voice now stood far from you.

Your gasped under your breath.

There he was. You recognized that flaming hair, those crimson eyes. Myths of the supernatural were common throughout the country, but living so close to modernity tended to cast off these stories as old wives’ tales.

But the man before you was not human. And judging from the fangs, you had a major inkling as to what his true identity was.

“Breathe,” he spoke, and you realized that was something you had entirely forgotten to do. You filled your lungs with air, but still brandished the weapon in front of you.

“Why are you following me?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the cool air.

“You’re bleeding,” he reiterates, voice strong but with a light edge. One you could almost mistake for kindness. Your bring a hand to trace the part of your forehead that had collided with the ground the night before. Your fingers were stained with blood when you pulled them away. You had not had time to stitch yourself up.

“Okay, and?” Your voice did not waver.

You did not appreciate being followed. Sure, he had helped the night before, but who was to say it wasn’t to attack you when your guard was down? You needed to find a way out. He was fast, that you knew. Escape wouldn’t be easy. And the engine of your brain running to find alternatives only seemed to amplify the pain in your skull.

“Listen, I can help you,” He added. “At least with the pain.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to hurt me?” You frowned

“If I wanted to hurt you,” he chuckled earnestly, “I would have done so as soon as you veered off the main path half an hour ago.”

Your lips were drawn into a thin line, and your hold on the sickle grew shaky. You were tired, and in the moment, weak. You sighed.

“How would you do that?” You conceded. Might as well listen to what he offered, right?

“Well by biting you, of course!”

Silence…

You almost wanted to facepalm at his response. Seeing as he was not keen on attacking, you finally stood up on shaky legs.

“Wait, I’m serious.” He raised his hands. Not in defense, but as a way to placate you. “At least give it a try? I can tell you’re in a lot of pain right now,” the way his thick brows downturned and concern was etched onto his features carried a sincerity that made you waver.

You blame it on the fatigue and the pain, but after another bout of silence, you nod. Deep down, you knew the moonflowers would provide only minimal relief. And if he was going to kill you, maybe this was a good place for it. A moonlit clearing. Pearly white flowers on which your blood would be spilled. You felt delirious.

In truth, Rengoku had roamed the district for the better part of the year. So many people, so much food. But he did not attack guiltless individual. No he was too noble for that. He went after dangerous people. Repeat offenders. Just like the man who had followed you that night. Someone he had given the chance to escape before, but felt justified enough to get rid of this time.

He was doing a service to society, right? It was a win-win situation.

But the scent of your blood after the incident had haunted his thoughts in a way that surprised even him. He had never wanted to taste someone so badly.

And you stood before him now, almost serving yourself in a silver platter. He fought that primal voice that told him he could just have you. You wouldn’t be able to fight back anyway. Instead, he offered. Praying you would take it. For your sake and his own.

A fair bargain, right?

The second you nodded your approval, he found his place in front of you with a dizzying speed.

His figure towered over yours, but he offered another warm smile.

“Where…” his voice was more quiet now, “Where is it alright for me to bite?”

You had not considered it, so you looked down at your body.

“Where would be a good place?” Surely, there was a method to this. He gulped, feeling the saliva pool in his mouth at the thought.

“Anywhere with good circulation. You’re a healer, right? You would know,” he offered with a light chuckle. His eyes fleeted over the junction of your neck, but he did not make any further suggestion.

You did not think to question how he knew that about you.

“Wrist,” you replied, pulling back back the sleeve of your Haori. He smiled and nodded, wrapping strong fingers around your arm. His body was so cold. Even more than the night air.

He brought your hand up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. And felt his lips ghost over your skin, causing your entire body to erupt in goosebumps. He bared his fangs and grazed the area with them. You felt your heart slam against your chest.

“Relax,” he instructed, his voice deeper than it had been before. You tried your best to follow the direction. “The discomfort will be brief,” he whispered against your skin.

And with that, you felt his teeth sink into your flesh. There was a brief flash of pain, but that was immediately replaced by pure bliss. Euphoria. He had told the truth. Your heartbeat slowed, and a languid sigh escaped your lips. The pain from your wound faded into the background, and all you could feel was him, your mind riding an indescribable high.

His tongue lapped at the skin, drawing away blood at a leisurely pace. Pupils blown out, quiet groans escaping his lips. When your knees buckled beneath you, Kyojuro wrapped an arm around your waist, drawing you against his chest.

He knew he didn't need this much blood to give you relief, but getting his body to stop proved more difficult than he thought. He wanted more—his entire being vibrated with need. But he had practiced discipline for too long. No matter how much he wanted to ignore the voice of reason, he wouldn’t.

Reluctantly, he retreated his teeth, but lapped at the remaining blood on your skin, before delivering a light kiss to the area.

“Delicious,” he whispered.

Your breath shuddered. You came down from your high but the pain remained gone. You should have thanked him and returned home, but it was like you were glued to his body. You could not pully away. Did you even want to pull away?

This was something really new for me to try, but I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know if you would like more apothecary!reader x vampire!Rengoku content! I'm really excited about the idea.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x y/n #hashira x reader #kny hashira #demon slayer x reader #gingerteawrites

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quilly72 · 1 day ago

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Alexa I'm not so sure about this I mean let's consider some of the downsides it hasn't been tested for one and don't mention..."

You were cut off as her eyes pierced into you her hand pressed against your chest. "I want you to turn that growth ray on and I want you to make my ass larger right. Now." Her face flickered with a smirk as she turned the growth ray on for you and took a couple steps back. Turning her back to you as she shimmied in place.

Your reasonableness left you as she looked over her shoulder and waited for you to hit her. Your fingers twitching with anticipation as they adjusted the dials the sounds of the machine's humming growing in volume as you started prepping the ray. You aimed it at your target which smiled back as she braced against the bed of your hotel room.

"Quickly I have to give a speech in a couple minutes I need to make sure I look my best"

You breath became quick as you finally got everything to its correct settings. Placing your finger on the trigger as you finally pressed in. The click of the mechanism lit up the room in a radiant green light. Electricity causing your hair to stand on edge as a blinding green light fired off into your lovely girlfriend.

You heard her yelp as the blinding light started to fade. The power to your room cutting out as the lights flickered off. Your vision was no longer being filled with green as you squinted trying to find her in the room. It had obviously hitten her harder than she had planned as you found her laying face down on the bed groaning off the pain.

"Alexa are you okay how do you feel" Your mind raced with questions as she opened her eyes and started to raise off the bed. Her eyes darting from side to side as she sat up. Her hands racing across her body her butt her thighs. "I don't know if it worked I just kinda feel tingly and I don't thinker I'm any big.GER" Her voice raised as her face pulled in surprise and shock. She let out a gasp as you watched her body spring up a couple inches. Her thighs thickening towards the hips as her butt pressed out against her dress and the bed sheets.

Her smile grew as Alexa took in her excitement. "This is awesome it actually worked" Alexa quickly stood up next to you. Her head now rested at the same height as yours. It was weird and somewhat daunting meeting her eye to eye when you usually looked down towards her. Her butt had received most of the love as her dress tightened around her hips even raising the formerly long dress up her calves and towards her knees. Her ass pulling the fabric tight forming little dishes as it stretched out.

"Okay what time is it. we have to go" She said as she gathered her things. "Um... no idea it looks like the ray caused the power to go out." You opened the door to find the hallway off as well and several hotel visitors looking out in the hallway. "It looks like the power was lost in more then just our room. The stairs it is" You nodded as you started to make your way.

You opened the door to the stairway as you both started to make your way down.

It wasnt that far down but still enough to be an inconvenience especially as Alexa had to take each step carefully with the heels she had decided to throw on which you had noticed officially made her taller than you which felt...weird. "How much more do we have to go it starts any minute now" Just two more flights and we are right there don't worry you will be right on time. "Fine...also when does the tingly feeling of the growth ray go away I still feel like my legs are ASLeEP?!"

You turned back to find Alexa shooting up another couple inches. Her face filled with shock as her dress tightened further up her thighs to her knees. Her eyes widened as she watched her legs tremble and struggle to balance out. A gasp leaving her mouth as her feet tightened in her heels. The plastic groaning as her feet settled slightly over the edges. "What the fuck just happened" She muttered as she quickly scanned her body.

Uhm I think I calibrated the machine wrong you must've received too much and there was just a delayed reaction so you grew again.

She shot daggers at you as she took off her heels to which her feet were now crawling over the edges of. Her dress gripped her hips and her shoulders as she struggled to pull it down. She quickly made her way down to the landing. Even without her heels she was still taller by half a head.

She stared at you as you brushed it off. "Hey you were the one who convinced me to do it don't make it my fault and if we don't go you are gonna be late. We will shrink you back down later"

You finally made it the the bottom floor as you walked into the convention. The seating full and busy. Luckily the loss of power had made it that you weren't late but still Alexa was quickly ushered to the front to start off the company's presentations. You found your seat as the power flicked back on. A quick joke made by the host as he welcomed your lively girlfriend on stage to read off the stats and rewards for the higher performing employees for the year.

You couldnt help but notice her beauty as she walked up. You could also tell she was nervous by the way she twitched and shook every once in a while. Her incredibly tight dress and slightly exaggerated curves weren't helping her you were sure.

"Thanks Steven so for our first category we have our highest performing salesman. With over 200,000 stocks sold this last year is... it is... Alexa cleared her throat as she struggled to speak. It is AnTHOnYYy Suarez." Alexa yelped out the name as everyone stared. A couple scattered claps filling the air as a man near the front stood up. However it quickly stopped as everyone watched as Alexa yelp led to a physical change. You gulped as you watched her spring up. Her watch breaking off her wrist as her dress folded up her thighs. Not to mention the fact that everyone now understood her decision to go barefoot on stage since the rest of her outfit was shrinking. Her eyes were wide with embarresment and fear as she looked back at the crowd that was still questioning what they just saw. Her body leveling our a couple inches higher as she tried to calm down with long slow breaths. Accentuating her larger breasts as they piled up against her dress.

Alexa tried to regather it as she swayed back to the podium. "Sorry will Anthony Suarez like to come up. We don't mean to take away any of the

She stopped and cleared her throat ...any of the Her face grimacing as she tried to force the words out ...AttenTION" Her forced words were struck with another spurt as her hands gripped into the podium. Her quick gasps accentuated by her dress ripping against her hips. Her shoulder straps digging in as her dress groaned against her growing body. It didn't help that her chest appeared to be catching up as everyone stared in terror. You stood up in the crowd as you started to make your way up as Alexa let out aNother yelp. They were getting faster and with that one some of the crowd started to get up and leave.

She was easily 7 ft tall her dress barely covering her large wider ass as the skirt part of her dress tore across the width of her body. Her neckline choking her as she started to panic. " don't leave everything will be just. Oh no.fuck FUCK"

She sprung up another foot as her dress tore off of her. Her undergarments going with them as she tried to cover herself in front of the crowd. The crowd finally got the hint as they started to rush out and panic. Screams filling the air as you tried to make your way up. Fighting against the growing panicking crowd as Alexa herself shot up again and again. 8 ft tall then 9 ft tall. The stand underneath her groaning a bit as her body weighed down on one spot. Her coworkers scremaing and fleeing the stage as they rushed away. Her ass was twice as wide as your shoulders by the time you finally got up to her. Which you could easily tell by the fact that her ass was about head height for you now. She stared down at you as she recoiled against another spurt. HeLppP MEeEe.

Her body sprung up as she recoiled up further. Her head hitting the lights causing them to flicker as the fire alarm started to blurt out adding to the chaos. You could hear her body groaning as it stretched larger she must of been 12 ft tall by now. Her ass weighed heavily above you her boobs so large you could barely see her face even with Her head ducking foward trying to fit underneath the roof. her arms bracing against the structural parts of the stage as to not lose her balance. Het knees wobbled and bent out as she tried to get her body to stop and slow down. Her eyes darting in fear as she bent further down trying to fit in the cramped space. Finally spotting you as her face widened with pain "GET THE RAY AND SHRINK ME"

Alexa fell to her knees causing you to almost fall yourself. The room rumbling with a deafening roar. The wood under her cracking against the weight. You took a gulp looking at her massive body indenting the stage in. The wood creaking under her as it bowed towards the ground. Her legs dangling off the edges as they pressed into the seats in the side front rows. "Ill.. I'll meet you up there"

You took off running as another screech was heard from behind you. Your adrenaline pumping hard enough that you barely heard the wood break over the heartbeat in your ears. You found the stairs as you continued to bustle past all the people running in the opposite direction. Sirens being heard in the distance as you took each flight several steps at a time. Each time you gained a flight you could hear Alexa growing closer. Her cries getting louder. As you rounded the 4th story you heard a giant crash and crunch. The hotel shaking as support beams groaned and creaked. You could only guess that despite her best efforts she was coming up to meet you.

You bulldozed your way thru the 5th story door as you beelined for the hotel room. Sliding the keyboard in and finding the growth ray. "Come on turn on you worthless piece of junk" You heard another earth shattering crack thru the hotel as the building shook again. Alexa cries and moans filling the hotel and rumbling it. The sirens from outside growing louder as you heard the indiscernable yells of authorities trying to take control of the situation.

You powered up the ray as you adjusted some setting and wheeled it out to the the hallway.you didn't know exactly where she was so you decided to stand back just in case. Taking steps further back again and again as the hotel started to rumble sway one way then another. Metal bending out and concrete cracking filling the entire building. The sound of a woman yelping and screaming against the pressure growing louder and louder.

Another crack and another shake as you felt a giant thunk roll thru the ground under you. The floor indenting and culing up infront of you as if gravity was pulling it the opposite direction. Her cries only one wall away it seemed. You heard what sounded like her legs stretching into the streets as the sounds of cars screeching and dragging across the ground were heard. You started to power up the ray as it finally happened.

Alexa yelped as her head ripped thru the 5th story floor. Her head and neck filled the entire hallway as the adjacent doors and walls crumpled and fell away. Her chest hitting the ground below you as the floor raised up around her with her shoulders. You fell to your face under the shaking as you heard the sounds of the hotel floor underneath you shattering and collapsing. Making stable ground hard to find. You braced against a wall as you fired off the ray into her fear filled eyes. Her face scrunched against the pressure of the hotel bracing back against her. She yelped in pain as she caught a faceful of the blast. Her body twitching and recoiling against it.

She froze as she stared at you. "Thank you.. thank you so much I didn't know what I was gonna do if I kept grow... oh no fuuuck fuck FUCK. You closed your eyes as you watched her disappear. Her growth doubling again and again as the floor under you started to collapse under the pressure. Her chest bursting into the floor then her abdomen. Her legs sprawled out into the adjacent skyscrapers as you heard building after building crush and fall. You watched as the ceiling above started to collapse. With the power off and the growth ray disabled you took in one finally gaze of your giantess girlfriend. As she expanded into the sky above with her cries of terror shaking the city. The roof above falling down as the building you were finally fell to the streets. Her giantess body finally breaking free and soaring into the sky above spurt after spurt.

#giantess growth #gtsgrowth #giantess

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storiesabouteli · 2 days ago

Text

Do The Damage. // Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut)

prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)

words: 3,5k.

Noel felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need anything more to complete his sense of satisfaction. Even so, during the band's final chapter, a mix of circumstances led him to start considering new possibilities. Unable to leave music behind entirely, he set up a studio and took on the more bureaucratic aspects of supporting future artists. It was his way of giving back to an industry that had given him so much.

He didn’t know much about the artist he’d suddenly become interested in—just that you were a young woman with an undeniable presence. Noel first heard your voice on his way to his mom. It struck a chord deep within him, leaving him sitting in the car even after he arrived, staring out the window and absorbing every word you sang like drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed. Minutes later, he was kicked out of the Uber.

Your voice carried raw potential, unpolished but undeniably captivating—not bad, just unmistakably new. The lyrics were tender and nostalgic, stirring emotions that felt both unfamiliar and deeply rooted. Noel found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. It was solid, needing no comedic relief or intrusive embellishments to make itself heard.

He couldn’t picture your face, your hair, or even your style, but your voice lingered in his mind. The breaths, the pauses—at times resembling soft, almost failed sighs—were profoundly compelling.

When the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. Quickly, he grabbed a notebook, scribbling it down before it could slip from his memory.

During dinner with his mother, he mentioned you in passing, his fingers running absentmindedly through his hair. She caught the subtle shift in his tone—how you had left an impression on him.

"Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Noely?" she teased.

He was typically poetic in his descriptions, even when veiling them in a layer of skepticism, but this time he struggled to downplay it. He swore he had been concise, though he doubted he’d succeeded.

As the visit neared its end, you were all he could think about. He needed to share your music with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted truthfully, though his tone betrayed him.

Peggy chuckled knowingly. "I’ll give her a try," she said, confident. After all, her son’s recommendations rarely missed the mark.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Noel had written down the wrong last name, which delayed his search longer than he’d anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and he later discovered that the radio segment he’d heard was an exclusive showcase for new artists. All he managed to find were amateur videos of you performing at pubs on YouTube, with poor audio quality that didn’t do your voice justice. Still, he played them on repeat over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution became his favorites, though Noel feared it might have more to do with your angelic face than he wanted to admit. He avoided acknowledging the fact that you were much younger than him—far more than he was comfortable quantifying. But in trying to ignore it, the thought seemed to take up permanent residence in his mind. Any guilt he felt over this, he brushed aside, though it lingered in the background.

When Noel closed his eyes at night, he often conjured the image of you from one particular video: wearing a light, summer wine dress with straps that slipped slightly off your shoulders. In his dreams—purely idealistic, he told himself—he imagined gently adjusting the strap with his finger, smoothing your hair as your calm gaze met his. Your head tilted into his touch, resting affectionately in his palm, and he left a soft kiss on your temple as your lashes fluttered. Not that he truly believed he’d ever have that kind of effect on you. The thought alone, however, left him sighing, strangely at peace.

It was indescribable how much your voice consumed his thoughts. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics while showering, cooking, and winding down after long days. By the time he called his mom the next weekend, she already knew what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed effortlessly from your lips. The cameras, the analog quality, and the audio from your YouTube recordings couldn’t compare to the experience of seeing you live. The room was small, filled with a modest crowd—mostly people your age, though a few older ones lingered with curious, skeptical expressions. It was an intimate and pleasant atmosphere.

Noel stayed at a comfortable distance, neither too close to draw attention nor too far to miss the details. He wore a dark collared jacket, paired with jeans, and kept his sunglasses on, even in the dim lighting, to avoid being recognized. Occasionally, he slid them down his nose for a clearer look, wanting to see you without the darkened lenses.

You held the microphone with care, almost as if it were weightless, weaving the cord between your fingers as you took small, measured steps across the tiny makeshift stage. Most of the audience was distracted, caught up in their conversations, but a fair few paused to watch and listen. Occasionally, your voice wavered, and Noel caught the slight furrow in your brow when it happened, a flicker of disappointment crossing your features. But to him, it only made you more endearing.

You wore white tights and a white dress with a Peter Pan collar—an outfit Noel thought suited you perfectly. As he watched, he tugged on the edge of his shirt beneath his jacket, mirroring the way you nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress. He smiled to himself, hoping that, somehow, you could feel his silent encouragement. You were doing beautifully.

The performance ended quietly, your soft “thank you” followed by a beat of silence before Noel started clapping. The applause swelled as others joined in. You seemed surprised, hesitating to meet the eyes in the room, but your shy smile gave away your happiness. Noel felt a wave of satisfaction watching you soak in the moment.

Later, with a glass in your hand, you stood chatting with the guitarist. Noel, lingering nearby, imagined himself in the guitarist’s place, strumming alongside you in the dim, hushed venue, where whispered conversations blended into the warm atmosphere. When the guitarist gestured toward him, you turned, and Noel felt a jolt of nerves. His palms began to sweat, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide it.

Up close, you were even more captivating. Your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, and your gait had a slight unevenness he found charming. He avoided smiling too widely, afraid it might give away how thoroughly you had enchanted him.

“I enjoyed your performance,” he said, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. “You sing really well, and your original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.”

The compliment came out smoothly, the product of quiet rehearsals in his mind. But when you bit your lip and offered a shy smile, he felt heat rise to his face, knowing he was probably redder than he’d like to admit.

Your fingers fluttered to the edge of your dress, an unconscious gesture Noel found entirely too adorable. He wanted to take your hand, to offer something to distract you from the nervous thoughts he could see running through your mind. Instead, he waited as you stammered out a soft “thank you,” the sincerity in your voice unmistakable.

When he offered to buy you a drink, he noticed your hesitation but also your curiosity. Maybe it was something about him—the warmth in his tone or the subtle familiarity he carried. Whatever it was, you accepted, and as you joined him, Noel couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

"I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed," you said, your eyes sparkling. Noel smiled softly, sensing that in a few hours, you might warm up to him.

Your gaze lingered on his outfit, noting details you didn’t often encounter. The shirt was impeccably tailored, the collar subtly unique, and the jacket—definitely genuine leather—was unlike anything you’d seen around here. You weren’t an expert in such things, but the quality was unmistakable.

Noticing how you wrapped your hands together for warmth, Noel didn’t hesitate. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your icy skin. A pang of guilt hit him for not realizing sooner. You didn’t resist, your small nod of thanks revealing how much you needed it.

"Don’t you think you deserve it?" he said, without considering how flirtatious it might sound. The second the words left his mouth, he realized his tone, but before he could apologize, you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head.

You looked at him thoughtfully, a faint smile forming. "I think it’s nice," you said, "to think that someone would dress up to see me here. To imagine you picking out an outfit, anticipating it throughout the day, thinking about what’s most suitable or comfortable... It’s kind."

Your words had a natural grace, effortless and genuine. Noel felt a pang of self-awareness—most of his words were calculated, spoken with the intent to impress. But with you, it all felt unforced.

You sighed contentedly, nestling into the warmth of his jacket, your hands disappearing into the oversized sleeves. Noel felt a swell of affection as he watched your animated gestures while you spoke, completely unaware of how your knees had brushed against his and stayed there.

“Well, if it helps," he said, his voice deepening in a rhythm of soft pauses, "I heard you on the radio the other day... and I wanted to see you in person."

You nodded, brushing off the compliment—not because it displeased you but because you didn’t know how to handle it. "I like your accent," you said, your tone light and teasing. "It makes you sound older than you are."

Your shoulders brushed as you shifted restlessly, the contact unintentional but comfortable. For a moment, the two of you sat in quiet, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations framing your shared breath.

Noel eventually broke the silence, explaining the record label project he had in mind. His words flowed, outlining the steps it would take for you to pursue something more professional. You listened intently at first, but at some point, your focus drifted to him—the slight silver streak in his dark hair, the furrowed concentration in his thick brow, the perfectly shaped mouth, and the shadow of stubble framing his face.

His gestures were minimal compared to yours, but his hands—large yet precise—drew your attention. They felt timeless, like something out of an old film, delicate but grounded.

“I’m listening,” you said at last, “but I wouldn’t have the money for it. I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because they let me use their instruments. It doesn’t pay well—sometimes it’s just beer and food.”

There was no bitterness in your voice, just a quiet acceptance of the limitations around you. Your sincerity struck him, the kind of purity that came from believing the music was meant for you.

Someone bumped into your chair, jolting you forward slightly, but Noel steadied it instinctively. The sudden closeness let him take in every detail—the precise shade of your eyes, the soft scent of your hair.

To you, his blue eyes were striking and the lines at their corners adding a kind of rugged warmth…

"That’s exactly my point," he said softly. "You get paid, and I help you get heard. You deserve to be recognized for your work."

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Gem's tone carried a teasing edge, though Noel knew it was rooted in some truth.

"It’s not like that," Noel replied, his voice steady but undeniably warm. "She’s really good. You’ll meet her." The anticipation slipped through his words—unintended but undeniable. In just a few months, you’d be right in the middle of this whirlwind with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head?" Gem pressed. "Like, the reason for your soft tone and that silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t sound like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Noel."

Noel shook his head, even though Gem couldn’t see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this." His words came out too quickly, like he was convincing himself. "Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." Saying it aloud felt heavier than he expected.

"Don’t fit?" Gem’s laugh was low and knowing. "Mate, you’re not fooling anyone. You think I don’t know you? I know that tone—you’ve got her in your head. I’m just saying, be careful. If you don’t handle this right—"

"I know," Noel cut him off, his voice sharper.

The conversation shifted after that, as if the topic had been laid to rest. But Gem’s parting words lingered in Noel’s mind long after the call ended.

"Noel, I’m sure this will hurt you as much as it’d hurt her. You don’t deal well with this type of emotion. Your feelings will get in the way."

It stung because it might be true. But as Noel sat there, staring at the half-written lyrics scattered on the table, he found himself wondering if it would really be so bad—spending all that time with you, seeing where this road might lead. Even if it wasn’t the most practical idea, even if it felt reckless.

Could it really be so wrong to let himself hope?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You were familiar with the band, though not with his exact current appearance. It certainly wasn’t like in the “Wonderwall” video anymore, but his more recent style—a dad vibe with a not-much-older kid—was charming in its own way. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

You knew his songs and compositions, maybe not all of them, and you weren’t fully aware of how big he had been in the ’90s. Still, he was clearly someone famous who, by all logic, shouldn’t have been paying much attention to you. He had been handsome when he was young, and he was still attractive.

"He doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being nice to people. Are you sure it’s the same person?" Your roommate raised an eyebrow at you, her skepticism evident. You had watched a few interviews of his and noticed the same thing she mentioned— as well as his red-stone ring on his rough hand, the way his tongue darted across his lips. He was certainly not shy.

"I’m sure it’s him, and it seems like he’s only like that with the press. He wasn’t arrogant at all with me," you replied, swallowing hard. You wondered if you were an exception to his rule, but that thought felt too hopeful and premature.

"One night with him and you’re already defending this old man?" she teased, laughing as she grabbed her things and headed for the door. You shook your head, trying to convince both her and yourself. This was a losing game.

"Good luck, babe. You deserve to have your music recorded professionally," she added before disappearing into the street.

You still had your doubts—it all seemed too much. Your laptop sat open beside you, paused on a podcast of him. He was in profile, his skin smooth but showing the marks of time in a way that only added to him. He occasionally ran his fingers through his hair between breaths, and the open buttons of his shirt revealed just enough of his chest hair to be distracting. His voice was captivating, and his heavy accent made you want to stay there. Slowly, his presence wrapped around you like a blanket as you burrowed further under your own covers.

Your vision was blurry, yet sharp enough—what mattered was the certainty that you could recall everything, every detail. You could hear his breathing, close enough to feel its rhythm. His gaze, usually opaque, gained a quiet brightness as it trailed over your body, seated right in front of him.

You were wearing a button-up shirt in a deep ocean blue, a perfect match for the color of his eyes. You had seen the very same shirt on him hours earlier, in some old photoshoot. Now it was on you. It barely reached your knees, and the sleeves were so long they hid your hands entirely. You sat on the edge of the marble counter, its cold surface doing little to mask the fact that he was the one making you shiver.

Your knee brushed against his hip, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes held a calm warmth that made you feel at ease. His broad fingers brushed your wrist, the heat of his touch making your breath hitch slightly. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt utterly vulnerable to him.

His movements were delicate, fleeting, much like the night at the pub. He reached for the oversized sleeves of the shirt and carefully rolled them up, his motions deliberate, taking his time, then revealing your hands at last. He took one of them in his, lifting it to his lips.

He kissed your palm more than once, and the contrast of his growing stubble—rough and scratchy—and his soft lips made your breath catch again. Your mouth parted at the sensation, then your shoulders relaxed in a way that seemed to please him. It was only then, as if your ease was his permission, that he smiled.

He didn't say anything, but it didn't seem necessary. His fingertips touched your knee, gradually adding pressure. The rough calluses made you spread your legs before you needed to be told to. His touch moved up, bringing heat to your entire body, until they were invisible beneath your shirt.

“Mr. Gallagher," you sighed, the words slipping out in vain—you didn’t even know what you wanted. Your hand rested gently on his wrist, drawing an affectionate line there as your fingers idly played with the coarse hairs on his arm.

His eyes, fixed intently on you, seemed to promise he could take care of you, and yours, slowly but surely, found amusement in wandering across the expanse of his neck or the hair of his chest.

His scent was getting more immersive, and without rushing, his fingers were diving into you. You weren't stupid, you were aware of how wet you were, and Noel knew exactly what to expect. It didn't take much, it wasn't difficult, his fingers were thick and you didn't hesitate to swallow them. The abrupt and painful closing of your legs that came from the pleasure was avoided and that made everything more enjoyable.

He groaned muffledly, between his teeth, just watching you sigh heavily as you were struggling to keep yourself spread for him. He made you endure everything until the edge of the ring touched your skin, he held it there, watching your eyes water, until your legs trembled as he slowly moved his fingers and then removed them just so he could do that whole scene again.

You were so desperate that his fingers made that line of slime as they pulled out of you. He licked his lips at that, and without seeing where he was touching, you just felt the wet accumulation on your clit as he caressed you in light circles. It felt good, and made you think that boys your age weren't like that.

He continued, his face very close to yours and his scent making you dizzy. He added more pressure, his movements were continuous and unhurried, you couldn't help but let tears escape. You wanted to be good for him, you wanted to see him see that you knew how to behave. But, your body ached.

Your indignation was clear, yet he pulled his fingers away, which were as damp as before. You needed him. He brought the tips to his lips, the blue orbs still on you, who were sweaty and couldn't breathe like a normal human being, and licked them. His throat rose, his tongue made an approving noise, and before you could grab his wrist in protest, everything was getting blurrier.

You were sore, your legs weak, and your thighs damp. His voice still lingered in the background, softened words that felt like a melody, and you could distinctly catch his scent on the jacket he had given you that night—one you hadn’t been able to resist wearing ever since.

Your mind slowly grasped your reality, your mouth growing dry, and it felt absurd. It wasn’t as if you wanted this to happen—there was no sense to it—but you could no longer push him out of that space in your mind.

…

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?�� your voice echoed nervously through the studio as your fingertips froze. You had arrived a few weeks ago and had taken a few singing lessons that Noel had arranged with another professional, but now you feared he might become your only tutor moving forward.

#noel gallagher #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher x you #oasis noel gallagher #noel gallagher fanfic #noel gallagher dilf

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traintrainingmontage · 2 days ago

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From One to Another One

It's still 1/1 here, so I'm coming at you live with a Skarloey and Thomas fic! This one is based off of The Adventure Begins and the CGI series rather than the RWS, so I hope that you all enjoy. :) (I'm always a little nervous about writing Thomas himself, given how iconic he is, so I hope that I did him justice here!)

Summary: Thomas has just received his branch line, and he's on top of the world! No longer just another engine for the LBSC, he's the NWR's No. 1 engine, with a branch line to boot. But with great honor comes great responsibility, and when a mishap threatens to topple Thomas from his position, it's the advice of another No. 1 that helps get him back on track.

Characters: Skarloey, Thomas, Sir Topham Hatt

Rating: T

Word Count: ~4,200 words

(This is also on Ao3~!)

“Alright, Thomas. You’re all done.”

The tank engine’s eyes fluttered open gently, blinking into wakefulness as he took in the now-familiar sight of the Steamworks. Normally, Thomas felt apprehensive about coming here, but this time, there were no misgivings to be had. Sir Topham had decided that he ought to have a new coat of paint to celebrate receiving his branch line, and once again, the Northwestern Railway’s cerulean blue livery and red detailing, immaculate and unscratched, gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, with the proud no. 1 emblazoned on his side. Oh, how Thomas loved the feeling of being freshly painted! There was just something about that immaculate flawlessness that promised the end of the old and the start of the new, both of which Thomas was more than ready for.

As he absently followed the directions of the workers as they moved him to a siding, Thomas’s mind felt like it was rushing ahead at a kilometer a minute, unable to settle down. The tank engine still couldn’t quite believe it. He, of all engines, was being put in charge of a branch line! Not James, but him, Thomas! How exciting! How thrilling! How—

Peep peep peep! The sound of a whistle jerked Thomas from his thoughts, almost causing him to pitch forward were it not for his brake being secured. The whistle hadn’t sounded familiar, but that didn’t mean much considering how many engines he still had yet to meet here on Sodor. The blue tank engine quickly looked around to see just who was trying to get his attention, when finally a quiet yet firm “Ahem!” drew his eye down toward a small red engine sitting at about half his height, who had just pulled up to another siding right in front of him.

Thomas had never seen such an engine; even though this was clearly a tank engine, their tracks were far smaller and thinner than he was used to. A small part of Thomas suddenly felt rather gratified at the fact that he was not, in fact, the smallest engine on Sodor.

The silence must have stretched on a little too long, however, because the engine before him, whose expression had been one of anticipation, slowly began to look concerned instead. “Oh! Sorry,” Thomas exclaimed, his face stretching into an embarrassed grimace. “I, erm, didn’t… uh… You know, I don’t think we’ve met! I’m Thomas.”

“...Right,” the smaller engine huffed with a sigh, before his lips quirked up into a smile. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Thomas. I’m Skarloey, of the Skarloey Railway.”

“The Skarloey Railway?” Thomas questioned. “As in, the little railway that runs out of Crovan’s Gate?”

“The very same!” Skarloey huffed a laugh, his smile stretching even wider. A gentle breeze blew in, causing the thin line of smoke escaping his funnel to languidly float away as if heading back home toward his line. “Our railway serves the Blue Mountain Quarry, as well as the Skarloey Valley. We’ve got the loveliest sights on the island, and the quarry is always busy. Our passengers are such lovely people, too.” Pride seeped from every word, and the joy on Skarloey’s face was quite familiar to Thomas, seeing as it mirrored his own feelings about the Ffarquhar branch.

“That’s quite nice!” Thomas replied, giving Skarloey an answering grin. “I’ve just been given a new branch line, and it’s also quite beautiful. You should see—”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry, Thomas, but did you say… that you’ve been given a branch line?”

“Yes, that is what I said,” Thomas replied snappishly, eyebrows furrowing. Irritation coursed through him at the rude interruption, but the displeasure quickly gave way to concerned confusion at the somber, pensive expression of the engine before him.

Skarloey’s grin had fallen away into something far more serious, and after a moment’s hesitation, the red tank engine began to speak once more. “You say that you’ve received a new branch line, and I see that you’ve got the number one on your side. Please, tell me. Did you… inherit those from Glynn?”

“Oh, my number? Um, yes! I saw him a few days ago, and he told me to wear it with pride.”

“And… how is he?”

“Um, well… he’s on a siding on the branch line.”

At this, Skarloey’s frames seemed to sag, as if in relief. The smile returned to his face, although this one was smaller, yet somehow a little more genuine than before. “Ah, thank goodness! I was worried that he’d been—well, never mind. Thank you, Thomas. That is a load off my mind.”

“Um… of course!” Thomas smiled, but both his words and tone were tinged with uncertainty. “Do you… know Glynn well?”

“Oh yes,” the other engine chuckled. “He and I are old friends. We’re both the original no. 1 engines of our railways, so we would often have a good laugh about various adventures we’d had whenever we had the chance to see each other. It’s just been so long that I… well, I was worried.”

“Oh. Ok, that makes sense,” Thomas smiled. “Still, you don’t have to worry. He’s alright, and I’m running his branch line now! Sir Topham recognized my bravery, and I’m going to be the best there is! I’ll be the best No. 1 on the Northwestern; you’ll see!”

“I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully. But please, be careful, Thomas,” Skarloey cautioned, a note of worry in his voice. “Bearing the mantle of the No. 1 engine isn’t just for show. It’s a heavy responsibility, and—”

“It’s an honor, is what it is!” It was Thomas’s turn to interrupt, the indignation from earlier rising back up and mixing with a resigned annoyance brought on by too many well-meaning people telling him things he was quite sure he already knew. “Look, I’ve earned this! I’ve made mistakes, but now, I can show everyone just how useful I really am! I know I’m not Glynn, but I’m not some new build either! I’ll do my number proud! Just… trust me!”

A long, emotion-leaden silence stretched between the two. Thomas panted lightly; despite not being in steam, he’d gotten so worked up that he’d almost felt his fire flicker. Skarloey stared at Thomas with wide eyes, emotions roiling in his boiler. Next to them, on the horizon, the sun was quietly starting to set, casting its long rays upon both of the engines and bathing them in shining gold.

“...Alright,” Skarloey finally murmured, his voice ashen and empty. “I apologize, Thomas. I’ve said too much. I’m sure that you will make Glynn and the rest of your railway proud.”

“...Thank you, Skarloey,” Thomas managed, not quite able to bring himself to say any more.

Without another word, the older engine gave a quiet peep peep! and pulled away from the siding, leaving Thomas to his lonesome, and for once, the young tank engine was glad for the silence.

~~~~~~~

The next day, Thomas was recalled from the Steamworks and given his next job, which was to be the official start of his passenger service for the Ffarquhar branch line. In all the excitement, his encounter with Skarloey was quickly forgotten as Annie and Clarabel were hooked up behind him and he was sent along on his route. The small engine almost felt like singing with glee; he’d taken a few days to bring goods down the line and familiarize himself with it, but now, he’d been given the responsibility that many engines cherished most: passenger traffic.

“How exciting!” Thomas laughed, joy bubbling up from the depths of his boiler as the wind caught his words and relayed them back to Annie and Clarabel. “Come along! We must be off!”

“We’re coming along! We’re coming along!” the coaches chorused, equally pleased to be running along behind their new engine.

Soon enough, they reached the first station, causing the assembled passengers to gasp in awe. While many of them had caught glimpses of Thomas already as he familiarized himself with the line, a good number of passengers weren’t aware that they were to receive a new local engine. “Oh my!” one lady gasped. “So this is the new engine! How smart he looks!”

“I must say!” called a rather dapper-looking gentleman. “He’s much spiffier than the old coffeepot who used to come ‘round. Most excellent.”

“I hope he’s an easier rider than that James,” fretted an older woman with large glasses. “Always going so fast!”

“Hehehe!” Thomas chuckled to himself as the passengers filed onto Annie and Clarabel, their awestruck murmurs music to his ego. Once the Guard blew his whistle, the tank engine took off, heading up the line.

The ride was calm and easy. Sunlight streamed down in golden waves, and the clouds, languid and lethargic, allowed the wind to drag them where it wished. There couldn’t have been a more picture perfect day, the rails were nice and dry, and as far as Thomas was concerned, this was but a harbinger of the many good things to come. After all, he had learned! He had proven himself! He was the Northwestern Railway’s number one engine, not just another faceless worker on the LBSC. He would run the entire Ffarquhar branch line, no longer a station pilot forced to shunt all day, unappreciated and forgotten. Everything was looking up!

The happy compliments from the passengers as they arrived only bolstered his good cheer, with several stopping to tell him what a good job he’d done and congratulating his driver and fireman on a job well done. One comment in particular, however, stood out to him the most.

“Daddy!” shrieked one little girl, her smile as bright as her homemade yellow cardigan. “That’s Thomas! He’s the number one engine!”

“That’s right, Samantha,” her father laughed, a middle-aged man with a bellow that could rival Gordon. “He’s going to pull our train from now on.”

“Since he’s number one, does that mean he’s the best?”

There was a long pause, the father’s eyes sliding between a terribly eager-looking Thomas and a seven-year-old sporting a rather similar expression. “Well, uh, I certainly think that he could be!”

“Yaaaay!” Samantha cheered, doing a little dance that involved a tremendous number of hops. “We’re riding with the BEST!”

As her father gently led her away, the little girl waving all the while, Thomas couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. “The best! Yes! That’s me!”

“Well, we’d best remain careful,” Annie retorted, her gentle nagging already a familiar sound in Thomas’s smokebox. “Follow the rules, do what’s best for the passengers, listen to the driver, and—”

“Be a credit to the railway,” Thomas finished, a slight sigh entering his voice as he echoed the repetitive mantra. “Yes, yes, I know! I just need to keep doing what I’ve been doing, and then…”

Thomas’s mind was filled with visions of brilliance, of endless days of praise and cheers from his passengers, of thanks from Sir Topham and smiles from the other engines. If every day went as well as this one, then…

“...I really will be the best.”

~~~~~~~

The race against Bertie had been exhilarating. Thomas could think of no other word for it. Even the coaches had been invested, both Annie and Clarabel cheering him on, and both his and Bertie’s drivers had worked so hard.

However, his great success hadn’t stopped the passengers from making a great big fuss. Many of them called Thomas names, saying that he was an unsafe engine. Several children were crying by the time the race was over, and a few had even gotten motion sick. An old lady with huge glasses kept screaming that he was no better than James. A little girl in a yellow cardigan had looked at him with massive, sorrowful eyes before burying her head into her father’s shoulder. Sir Topham Hatt had to sort through the many, many complaints, as well as settle things with Bertie’s company. Thus, all further trains for the day were cancelled, and Thomas was sent back to his shed in Ffarquhar in disgrace.

Annie and Clarabel were silent, although their shame was palpable; they were meant to be the voices of reason, and had failed quite miserably in that respect. The two were shunted onto a siding, and said no more for the rest of the day. Thomas’s driver and fireman had also been told, rather unkindly, that they were not to be seen again for the rest of the day, and that as soon as Thomas had been returned to his shed and cleaned, they were to head for home on unpaid leave. From the sound of it, the stationmaster had earned the same punishment. Without his coaches or his crew, Thomas was left to sit and stew in silence, his wheels aching as a deep sense of guilt settled in between the tiny flaws and gaps in his frames, squeezing into those hair-thin vulnerabilities that not even the greatest designer could hope to avoid. He hadn’t meant to put the passengers in danger! It had just been one race! He just… he wanted…

What did he want?

He’d already gotten everything he’d wanted. He’d been allowed to leave the station, no longer forced to shunt coaches, and run a branch line—be responsible for his own branch line—instead. And now, it was quite possible that he’d ruined everything.

Sir Topham Hatt came to visit him that night. “Well, Thomas,” the Controller began, “I hope you’re quite pleased with yourself!” His lips were turned down into a fierce scowl, and his glare was enough to make Thomas shiver. Even though he was so much smaller than Thomas was, the sheer strength of his presence made the tank engine cower.

“I… no, Sir! I’m—I’m sorry, Sir!”

“‘Sorry’ isn’t enough this time, Thomas!” the Controller yelled, the exhaustion, anger, worry, and disappointment of the day’s events all quite evident in the weariness hiding in the creases of his eyes and the timbre of his voice. “Our passengers have lodged a number of complaints, many of which I have had to manage personally! What were you thinking?!”

“I…Bertie said that he was there to help me, Sir. A-and I said that I didn’t need it, because I could go faster than him, Sir! And th-then, he challenged me to a race, Sir! So—”

“So you fell for his taunt, and that’s how this all started,” Sir Topham sighed. In a quieter tone, but one no less angry, the Controller continued. “I’m quite disappointed in you, Thomas. I expected more from you, and that’s why I gave you the number one, as well as this branch line. But now, I’m not sure that you’re ready for the responsibility.”

Thomas’s eyes went wide, and he tried to say something, anything, in response, but Sir Topham held up a hand, a wordless command for quiet.

“Trains that go too fast usually end up in some kind of incident, whether it’s a crash, a collision, or even coming off the rails. Incidents can hurt, Thomas. They can lead to an engine needing a great many repairs or even being scrapped entirely. Humans can be badly injured in incidents, and may even need to be taken to the hospital. We’re very lucky that no one was hurt this time, but some of the passengers are calling for you to be replaced.”

“Replaced! Oh, Sir, please—”

“I haven’t decided yet, Thomas, but I am forced to seriously consider it. You’re not the LBSC’s no. 70 anymore, nor are you a guest of the railway. You now wear the Northwestern Railway’s number one. That number is both a blessing and a burden; people look at you and see the face of this railway. Just as my coffeepots once represented the Northwestern, the responsibility now lies on you to make a positive impression. I figured that you would be a good fit for such a role, as you are a hard worker and a joyful spirit, but I cannot allow passengers to think that my railway is unsafe.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Sir. I won’t do it again, ever.”

In lieu of an answer, or even reassurance, Sir Topham Hatt simply sighed. “Right. I’m sending you to the Steamworks tomorrow; your wheels are worn out, and at the very least, those need to be replaced. I will consider what to do with you afterwards. Good night.”

There was a finality in his voice that told Thomas not to press the matter further. Instead of all of the fears and nerves threatening to burst forth, with great effort, the little blue tank engine managed only a quiet “Good night, Sir.”

It was only long after Sir Topham left that he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~

Once again, Thomas found himself on a Steamworks siding, fitted with new wheels and tires. He did feel much better physically, but that was the extent of it; he was sure that his expression betrayed just how nervous and helpless he felt. To make matters worse, it was a spectacularly gorgeous day out, with bright sun, a nice breeze, and not a cloud in the sky, the kind of day that would be perfect for running joyously up and down his branch line. Heh, his branch line. If it would still even be his.

The thought was enough to cause tears to start welling up in his eyes, rivulets running down his cheeks as his thoughts started to spiral. Would he be forced to go back to shunting? Would he lose his number? He’d let everyone down—Sir Topham, the passengers, Glynn… what kind of No. 1 was he?

Peep peep peep! Thomas was jolted from his thoughts as another engine slowly pulled up alongside him. As he looked over to see who it was, he was almost unsurprised to find that it was Skarloey. “Hello, Thomas,” the older engine began hesitantly. “...How are you?”

“Just great,” Thomas bit back, well aware that he was being rude but not in the mood for decorum right now. “I made a huge mistake, and now I might lose my number and my branch line. I challenged Bertie to a race, and it was great fun, but all the passengers got mad at me, and Sir Topham was mad at me, and just… argh!”

If he’d been in steam, Thomas would have let out a large weesh in frustration. As it was, he could only yell about it, screaming up toward an uncaring sky as the tears continued to fall.

Beside him, Skarloey was quiet, so Thomas continued. “He said that trains who go too fast end up in incidents, and incidents are bad for both passengers and engines. I know that! Everyone knows that! But there wasn’t an incident, and they want to replace me just because I…”

There was a beat of silence before Thomas groaned, frustration evident on his face. “I guess it doesn’t matter. You and all the others were right; I couldn’t handle it. Just say it and get it over with.”

Skarloey let out a quiet sigh, staring out at the track, away from Thomas. “Everyone makes mistakes, Thomas. I made many of them myself when I was a younger engine. But one of the most important things I’ve learned is that most people don’t care if you make mistakes. What they care about is what you’ve learned from it.”

“I have learned!” Thomas shouted, startling a bird from its perch on a nearby tree. “I did! I’ll never race again! Racing can cause incidents, and incidents cause injuries, and that’s bad!”

“Yes, you’re right,” Skarloey murmured gently. “You’re sorry for racing, because you know that racing itself can lead to injury. But Thomas, have you ever thought about how easy it is for humans to be injured?”

At this, the blue tank engine furrowed his brow, and gave a quiet sniff. “Wha—what do you mean?”

“Humans aren’t like us,” the older engine explained, his calm cadence being surprisingly comforting the longer Thomas listened. “They’re very fragile. We can be rebuilt, and carry on even when we feel ill. Many humans can’t do that; if their injuries are bad enough, they may need to stay in the hospital—that’s their version of the Steamworks—for weeks, or even months, if it’s very bad.”

“Oh,” Thomas gasped, eyes going wide. “That’s terrible!”

Skarloey’s voice was somber. “It is. That’s why it’s very important that we give our passengers a safe trip. It’s not just incidents that lead to people getting hurt; they can even feel ill if we go too fast. Passengers must always come first.”

“I see.” Thomas’s gaze fell to the buffers before him, self-pity finally giving way to realization. “That’s why Sir Topham Hatt was so angry. It’s not just about the race; just because there wasn’t an incident doesn’t mean the passengers had a nice time. Some of them probably felt ill, and that’s why they wanted me to be replaced.” With a final sniff, the tears dried up, and Thomas blinked them away. “I really haven’t been a good engine. The race was fun, but it made the passengers upset and ill, and I really mustn’t go too fast in the future either, or else they might be upset again.”

“Exactly,” Skarloey agreed, lips curling up into a small, approving smile. “Well done, Thomas. That’s some very good self-reflection.”

“Self-reflection?” Thomas queried. “What’s that?”

The red engine blinked a moment, then gave a thoughtful little hum, trying to puzzle out how to explain the concept. “It’s when you think deeply about why you did something or feel the way you feel. At first, you felt upset because Sir Topham and the passengers were angry at you. But after some self-reflection, you can now see why they were angry, and what you should do better.”

“Oh!” Thomas exclaimed in surprise. “I didn’t know there were words for that!”

“Yes indeed,” Skarloey chuckled. “And self reflection becomes extra important because you’re the number one of your railway.”

Thomas took a moment to consider this, rolling the idea around in his smokebox. “That makes sense. Sir Topham said that people look at me and see the face of the railway, but I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Now, I guess it means that because people think of the railway and think of me, I have to be extra careful to do a good job. It’s nice to be noticed, but it’s also a big responsibility.”

“There you are, Thomas,” Skarloey beamed. “I think that if you tell all of that to Sir Topham, you can show him that you’re still worthy of your branch line.”

As if the heavens themselves were listening, a piercing honk honk! interrupted the two engines as a car pulled up on the road alongside the Steamworks, and Sir Topham stepped out. Even though the sun was still bright and the day still warm, a chill shook its way through Thomas’s body, snaking past his rivets and frames and down into his firebox. “Ah, Skarloey! Always good to see you!” Sir Topham greeted, and the smaller engine grinned in response.

“You as well, Sir!”

It was then that the Controller’s eyes turned to Thomas, his expression stern. “Now then, Thomas. Regarding what we spoke about yesterday…”

“Oh, please, Sir!” Thomas blurted out, panic causing him to push forward despite how rude he knew he was being. “Please don’t take my branch line away! I’ve done some self… self retention, and I know what I’ve done wrong. But more than that, I know why it’s wrong.”

“Oh?” Sir Topham replied, curiosity smoothing out the tension. “I believe that you mean ‘self reflection,’ Thomas. But I should like to hear what you’ve learned.”

“Yes, sir!” his engine started. “People are fragile, and they don’t like being bumped around or taken too fast because it makes them ill! Just because there wasn’t an incident doesn’t mean that they had a good ride, and it’s my job to always give the passengers a nice, safe trip. Plus, since I’m the face of the railway, I have to work extra hard at giving the passengers a nice ride because I don’t want them to think of me and think the whole railway is bad!”

The words all spilled forth in a rush, Thomas trying his hardest to get his meaning across before the Controller could possibly go back to being angry. Once he’d finished, however, there was a long, tense silence, before Sir Topham’s face finally broke into a wide, happy smile. “Well! It seems that you’ve thought quite hard about this, Thomas. Good lad. If you’ve really learned to reflect on yourself and you know why what you did was wrong, then I shall let you keep your number and branch line. I expect great things from you, as my number one engine.”

“Oh, yes Sir! Thank you, Sir!” Thomas exclaimed in relief, all breathless joy and wide-eyed delight, before looking down at the engine beside him. “And thank you, Skarloey, for helping me understand things. I don’t think I would have learned self reflection without you!”

The old engine laughed, his mirth causing even his frames to shake. “I’m glad that I could help, Thomas. From one No. 1 to another, I wish you all the best.”

“Ah, so he received a little help, did he?” Sir Topham smiled. “You truly are a credit to your railway, Skarloey. Thank you.”

The Skarloey Railway’s No. 1 engine grinned with pride, his smile as bright and warm as the sun above. “My pleasure, Sir. It’s truly been an honor.”

#ttte #te writes trains #ttte fanfic #ttte thomas #ttte skarloey #ttte sir topham hatt

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dreaming-marchling · 3 days ago

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2024 Fic Round Up

Tagged by @princessfbi (thank you! so thrilled to have discovered your work this year!)

2024 Word Count: 661,417

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

Safe In Certainty Started in 2023, Completed in Feb 2024 | Fast & Furious | Marked in Trust Series | 223,657k

Part four finished! Still stunned to be here story after story with the most amazing commenters I could have ever asked for. Not bad for a story I had never intended to share!

MARCH

Marked in Faith 10 chapters posted in 2024 | Fast & Furious | Marked in Trust Series | Roughly 60k posted in 2024

I'm putting this in for March because this is the month I began posting one story a month until Reckless in Devotion started. Some of those babies are longer than my oneshots, lol. Forever love exploring other POVs in the Marked in Trust world!

APRIL

MAY

The Ex 911 | Bucktommy | 17.5k

My first 911 story! My first Bucktommy story! Buck as a character totally captured me this year. I haven't been taken by a new fandom in so long so this was so exciting! Of course I beat the crap out of Buck right in my first fic for him :)

JUNE

Eyes On Me 911 | Bucktommy | 18k

Post lightning strike cataracts, I had so much fun with this one. I constantly think about extending it or maybe doing a Buddie version of it, I just loved the storyline so much and other scenes popped into my head after I posted

Doctor/Warlock Confidentiality Shadowhunters | Magnus-Centric | 17k

My first Shadowhunters of the year! Magnus Bane gets therapy against his wishes. I felt very clever for the title, lol

Heart & Universe 911 | Buddie | 6.8k

My first Buddie story! Why be stuck in a ship war when you can have BOTH?? I love writing them realizing they're in love :)

JULY

The King of the Dark Storm Shadowhunters | Malec & Chairman Meow | 5.8k

I've had this stray headcanon about Chairman being an old god trapped as a cat floating around in my head for fun for so long and finally I wrote it!

Not Sexy 911 | Bucktommy | 7k

Listen, I need more fics about Buck using sex in unhealthy ways. It's catnip for me. Tommy got a glimpse behind that particularly miserable door in this one

Invasion 911 | Buddie | 10k

Nakedperil!Buck and protective!Eddie - a match made in heaven, in my opinion

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

Over the Cliff 911 | Gen 118 Fam | 6k

This was originally supposed to be how Buck got injured in Not Sexy but I was having way too much fun with the cliff rescue which wasn't even the point of Not Sexy so I chopped them in half to make a gen 118 family/Buck whump story and gave a much more to the point explanation for Buck's injuries in Not Sexy

Away From Us 911 | Buddie | 76k

My first 911 multichapter story! A presumed dead lawsuit era story full of angst. I fully anticipate more lawsuit era angst in my future, lol

OCTOBER

Art Class and Earthquakes 911 | HenRen/Gen Buck & Karen | 5.5k

Karen Wilson is awesome and needs more stories

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

Reckless in Devotion Fast & Furious | Brian/Dom | 33k posted in 2024

The 5th installment in Marked in Trust series!! This took me so much longer than I thought it would but it's finally up and running and I am so excited for everyone to see what's to come :)

To Be Bonded Shadowhunters | Malec & Parabatai | 30k posted in 2024

I still literally cannot believe that this is finally being shared. I started this story in 2019 - I know I keep saying that but like this thing took me 5 years. It is my nemesis, finally vanquished. And people are enjoying it??? What? I've been cursing its name and people are now enjoying it. Wild. Wonderful

2024 has been kind of a crappy year for me irl but in fic it as been wonderful. A new fandom, so many words shared and, best of all, such amazing support and kindness from readers. You're all so wonderful and you have truly been one of the brightest pieces of my year. I cannot thank you all enough.

Tagging: You know the drill, if you saw this and thought "I wanna do that" then you're tagged. Literally @ me so I can read yours, that's how tagged you are.

#My Writing

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marauders-fanfilm · 3 days ago

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Hey everyone, We had hoped to write a very different update for everyone this year, but unfortunately that wasn’t quite in the cards yet. We’re still here, and still working away on the project, but it has been slow-moving. We wanted to begin by saying how much we appreciate everyone’s patience and continued support for this project. Obviously it has taken longer than any of us had anticipated, but our team is committed to seeing this project through. Unfortunately 2024 has been especially difficult for everyone, and progress has reflected that. I do apologize for the lack of updates this year; there were several personal setbacks as well as difficulties within the production. We kept hoping for something more tangible we could share but the biggest things we’ve been working on are highly spoilery.

One of the biggest updates this year that we can share has been on the score composition front. We spent a lot of years working with our talented composer, and while we loved the work we accomplished together, his schedule was simply unrelenting and never left time for TGS. Late last year we decided that it was in the best interest of the project to find another composer who could join the team to finish the remaining sections and polish up the drafts of what had been previously written. We are incredibly excited to welcome talented French composer Thomas Kubler to our team. This is actually Thomas’ second venture into the Wizarding World, having composed the scores for all three of the Warren Flamel fan films, which if you haven’t seen before, we highly recommend!

Thomas joined the film early this year, and immediately got to work. Due to some technical issues, it took our previous composer several months to send over the work he had done to date, so Thomas began by recreating the first few tracks by ear. After we eventually received the work in progress files this summer, he was able to start moving through the material much more quickly. Thomas has worked hard to incorporate much of the beautiful work that was done on the score by his predecessor, and the work he is doing sounds incredible. Unfortunately in October, Thomas was in an accident that shattered his right arm and put him out of commission for several months while he recovered. We are incredibly glad that he has now made a full recovery and are excited to resume progress on the rest of the score!

Things on the VFX front have been a bit slower but progress has continued. VFX Supervisor Martin and artist Seb have been hard at work on two of the most difficult sequences of the film, that I so desperately wish I could share more about, but as previously mentioned are highly spoilery moments in the third act finale. These are particularly complex effects that several previous artists have attempted and thrown in the towel on over the years or that weren’t coming out to the level they needed to. Both are still in progress but they are looking absolutely incredible, and we are so excited to see them finished!

We also brought on another talented American artist, Daphne, this year, who has come on for a specific finale sequence. While her schedule has been incredibly demanding, I am told that the shot is going well and I should have a version to review in the coming weeks.

That said, the VFX team has had a lot to deal with as well. The rest of the team has for the most part left or been unavailable to work on the project this year, be it because of busy work schedules, industry layoffs, political unrest, or medical recovery. It's been a really difficult year for almost everyone on our team. We are currently in talks to hopefully welcome some of them back in the coming months, and are working on bringing on some additional new recruits. The majority of the film is done but there is a good bit, primarily in the third act, that needs to be wrapped up. That said, we are incredibly proud of how things are looking and are so excited to share the film with you all.

We’ve said it before, but as long as she continues, we will too: The Cast & Crew of The Gathering Storm: A Marauders Fan Film stand with the Trans and Nonbinary communities against the continued harassment and bigotry from JK Rowling. To say working on this project over the last few years has been challenging while the creator of the world spews so much hate and misinformation is an understatement. We all have struggled with the knowledge that we, in some small part, continue the legacy of the franchise, and completely understand and respect the members of our team who could not continue working on it. Despite this, we stand committed to seeing this project through to the end, and creating something made by the fans and for the fans, as a farewell to a world we all loved so much.

Our team is hard at work to make this project the best that it can be, and we are so excited to share it with you. We appreciate everyone’s continued patience and understanding, and wish you all a happy New Year. Sincerely, The TGS Team

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romeo--thowlett · 2 days ago

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The night had been nothing short of perfect. He had never felt so comfortable with someone, especially on a first date. Skylar was different—there was a softness about her, a kind of warmth that made everything feel easy and natural. Her smile had a way of lighting up the space between them, and the way she laughed or stuttered in nervousness only made her even more endearing. Romeo found himself listening intently, hanging on every word she said. He wanted to know everything about her, but even more, he wanted her to feel heard and appreciated, something he was sure she didn’t always feel around guys such as her ex. He’d been taken aback at how easy it had been to sit there, talking with her for hours without it ever feeling forced over the course of the night. It was like they had known each other far longer than they had, and he couldn't help but admire the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about things she cared about. When she’d moved beside him, sitting so close, his heart had skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull to someone so soon, but with Skylar, it was undeniable. Her presence was like a calm in the storm, and he didn’t want that feeling to end. When he cupped her cheek, his heart melted at the way she looked at him—like he was something worth seeing. The quiet of the moment seemed to make everything else disappear. His world had narrowed down to just her, sitting there, soft and real. When he kissed her cheek, he felt the warmth of her hand covering his, and the world seemed to stop for just a moment. Seeing her so flustered afterward, with her heart racing, only made him want to hold her even closer. He laughed softly at her confession, feeling the rapid beat of her heart under his hand. “Your heart is racing,” he said, his voice gentle but full of affection. "I can feel it." He gave her a smile, one that was genuine and full of warmth. "Just think, we can make a lifetime of these kind of moments if that's something you'd want." At the mention of how they were already dating after such a short time, he couldn’t help but grin. It was incredible how quickly things had fallen into place between them, and it felt so right. As the night drew to a close, Romeo felt the urge to make sure she was safe. "Hey," he began, his tone warm and caring, "I know it’s starting to get late, and I want to make sure you get home safe. Can I give you a ride back? I think your address is probably still in my satnav system from last time." The offer was simple, but it meant something to him. He wanted to be there for her, to make sure she was taken care of, even in the smallest ways. Romeo gently took one of Skylar’s hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. He looked at her with a sincerity that made his heart race. "I’ll wait outside until somebody’s at home," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with care. "I just want to make sure you're safe and have somebody else there that knows you got back home okay." His thumb lightly brushed over her knuckles, and he held her gaze, anticipating her next words.

talking to romeo felt easy, like skylar had forgotten how hard it sometimes was for her to talk to people. but there he was, smiling at her and telling her she was perfect. she’d never been on a date like this before. she couldn’t imagine spending time like this with her ex. romeo was just... different. he was easy to talk to, and he seemed like a great listener. he sat there smiling and nodding as she talked, and for once, skylar felt appreciated. she was even feeling a little more secure than when they’d first met, though romeo had always had that way about him—making her feel safe but also nervous, leaving her stuttering at times. conversations flowed naturally. he was easy to be around, and skylar thought that quality would make him an amazing teacher someday. she could’ve gone on for ages about how great he’d be as a teacher or coach, but the thought slipped her mind when she decided to switch seats. now she was sitting next to him, his hand cupping her cheek. the world seemed to stop. there was no one else in the little ice cream shop late at night. skylar chuckled softly at his words—he said he wanted to see her smile. he’d definitely gotten his wish. she felt like she was going to melt right then and there. for a moment, they went silent. her blue eyes scanned his face as he seemed to be thinking about what to do next. when he leaned closer, her heart started racing in her chest, beating faster than ever. romeo pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. her eyes fluttered shut as she relaxed into his touch, her hand moving to cover his. when he pulled away, skylar looked up at him and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. she was speechless, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the moment.looking away, she could feel her cheeks burning under his gaze. “my heart is racing so bad,” she confessed with a small chuckle. she looked back at him and gently moved his hand to her chest. “see? you can probably feel it,” she said, her voice soft as her heart drummed hard and fast under his hand. “i can’t believe we’re dating,” she added with a nervous laugh, “and it’s only been, what? thirty minutes?”

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kamapon · 1 year ago

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Mersault break, behind the scenes 🤭

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #soukoku #bsd season five #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #mersault #comic #this actually took me longer than I anticipated #but it's ok

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rudyklownn · 3 months ago

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fords conflicting shoulder bills

#gravity falls #bill cipher #stanford pines #fanart #animatic #animation #this took way longer than anticipated wuh oh

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eemamminy-art · 2 months ago

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My half of an art trade I did with @fuerrziah !! :3 The softest guys ever 😊

#it took me longer than anticipated because I was getting in my head about it ahaha 😭 I hope you enjoy!!!#sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #sdv elliott x farmer #farmer beau #others' ocs #sdv #sdv fanart #stardew valley #stardew valley fanart

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judiciously-ezekiel · 2 days ago

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Once upon a time, his children were slated to take over the coven. Rule it with fairness while being stern as all things equal should, but then his little girl was stolen. Taken right out from under his nose, knowing that if he had just paid a little more attention, he would have seen the signs. Relinquishing control to Rhys now? It wasn't a logical choice until his son regained control of himself, and it may not happen even if Celeste is brought back, seeing as she may choose to live with Wrath instead of him. Their son was unstable in ways they didn't anticipate. "We have been apart for a long time, my love. Things change, we've changed," Ezekiel responded sadly. The witch went through the motions, letting his wife wrap his wrists with the ceremonial ropes, loose but bound by the spell. Unable to unwrap them until he unflinchingly gave a secret from the dark depths of his soul. Ezekiel nodded his assent, allowing the woman to go first. Some part of him knew it would be related to the curse, but he didn't expect it to be that. No loophole, no end to the curse. The Princes were on an endless quest to satisfy their King when no true end existed. He frowned, brows furrowing with sorrow as he thought about the boys he'd grown close to recently. How hard they're trying to change themselves outside of the influence of their King, how without ending the curse... they could very well perish in the fight against their King that was only a matter of time, not if. It wasn't fair to them, and the Firsts were leading them to their slaughter. It warmed his heart, however, to see his wife care what the Princes would think knowing the truth. It showed a bit of the woman he fell in love with, who cared about those around her instead of living off of the revenge that marred her soul. There was hope yet. He let out a shaky breath, his bound hands to push a lock of her dark hair behind her ears. "We can figure that out once we're done with the ritual, my love," he said quietly before falling quiet. Secrets were called such for a reason– if it's easy to talk about, then it's not an actual secret. Eyes cast to the binds while the silence stretched, he took a deep breath and started. "I understand why you and Rhys reacted like you did losing Celeste. She was the heart and soul of the family– but on that day, you only lost your daughter. On the other hand, I lost her, but I also lost you and Rhys. In one instant, our family imploded in a way I never thought was possible– before that moment, we were so solid, and then it evaporated in the blink of an eye. It threw me for a loop, and then it was too late for me to stop the two of you from wandering down the dark path." He blinked, raising his gaze to look at his beautiful wife. His heart and holder of half of his soul. "I know I should have fought harder to stay. I should have tried as hard as I knew Celeste would if Rhys was lost, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough, so your push was all I needed to go," his voice quiet as he pushed the words out through his lips, afraid if he stopped, then he wouldn't be able to keep going, "but I always stayed within distance of the two of you because no matter what or who the two of you became, I still loved you. I still love you as much as I did when we were first wed." The ropes were still wrapped around his wrists, the single push to reveal the secret. "My secret isn't that I've never stopped loving you; that was a proclamation you needed to hear. It's that there came a time in our separation when there was a single dark moment that I wished I no longer walked the Earth. It seemed better to just... not exist than it was to live in the sad existence that I had thrust myself into because I wasn't strong enough to fight back, but ironically, I couldn't even do that in the end. I knew Celeste wouldn't have wanted that for me, so I kept going for her." He felt the release of the magic, the ropes sliding from his wrists to the ground. "You worry that the boys won't forgive you. I worry that I'm no longer as strong as I once was."

"That is my hope, love, restoring the coven to its former glory so our son can inherit what has always been his birthright." It was a dream the moment she birthed the twins, Rhys and Celeste would take over and lead the witches of their coven as only a duo of Firsts could. Losing Celeste to Hell and then to death shattered the plans, leaving the coven leaderless once she and Rhys set down a revenge path that banished the Princes for eternity. The First Family, once united by bonds and eternal love, were scattered to the winds. Ezekiel was practically pushed through the door by her own rage while her son became consumed by making Hell pay for stealing his other half. "You would think after all these years, you would know my mind inside and out." Pandora braced herself for the drop in temperature as her husband's fingers lightly painted the marks, breathing a shuddered sigh that had everything to do with the coolness as much as it did with his touch. How she missed him. "An unlikable part, my love, but absolutely necessary." Pan set down her paint bowl and reached out a hand to take the rope before slowly winding it around her husband's wrists. Flashes of this ceremony before their wedding flashed in the witch's mind, recalling how young they once were, how in love and full of hope. When she was finished tying the rope, Pandora placed her wrists together and waited until her wrists were also bound. "Holding to tradition, we begin in the same order as last time." The woman released a slow sigh as her mind raced over the secret before her gaze found the male's features. The pause was agonizing, nearly crippling. She needed to rip this off like a bandage and spit it out before she changed her mind. "When I discovered Celeste was gone from the King's lips, something within me died that night. I made him a promise, a solemn vow that as long as I lived, he would suffer the same as I had. I wanted him to feel my pain, feel my hopelessness and my rage. Rhys never quite understood why I included a way to break the curse when we created it from scratch. Maybe..." She breathed another short sigh, "Maybe he thought I knew the King would never defile himself by placing a witch on the throne, but here is the secret not even our son knows," Pan whispered the next statement softly, "There is no loophole. There never was. The Princes would never regain their abilities or return home no matter if the King took a queen." Pandora glanced down between them, feeling the ropes loosen and fall from her wrists to the ground. Her blue orbs fell on the male again sadly, "They will never forgive me, Ezekiel."

#c; pandora #what a zesty nugget

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