#wait lemme draw that too I wanna see him be pathetic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writinggremlin · 6 months ago

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YEAHHHHH NEW TRB DROP LETS GOOOOO!!!!

After hitting the tag limit last time, I think I'm just gonna put my reactions here instead lmfao. I can make this as long as I want, you don't have to ss anything if you wanna reblog and respond to it, and best of all I CAN USE QUOTES AND COMMAS!!!!! WOOOOOO!!!!!! Probably should've been doing this sooner lol

Anygay-- let's go.

"It was a scene of perfect tranquility. The perfect scene for Fitz to disrupt." Omfg Fitz you are such a cat. "[...] flopping down sideways on the couch and draping himself halfway across Alexander's lap" FITZ YOU ARE SUCH A CAT OMG! NO WONDER I LOVE HIM SO MUCH-- Actually I have a song that's oddly Fitz themed I think? At least slightly? It's Stray Cat Strut by Stray Cats (That was one of my favorite songs when I was a little kid lmao).

Oooo we're involving the Fae now? Didn't you mention before that Fitz had some involvement with that in his lineage, which is part of why his blood is ranked so highly? Is he about to discover this for himself? I'm intrigued!

"Normally he would find this kind of lecture to be boring, but his master's voice was so captivating that he could happily listen to anything." Lmfao Fitz you are so fucked on the enthrallment whether you want/realize that or not.

Wait-- different magics have different smells? Huh. I guess that makes sense, you wouldn't expect them to taste the same, and different foods have different smells, so I see where that tracks. I just didn't expect that lol.

Fitz would be down to fuck a fairy. Got it.

FITZ GOD DAMNIT STOP IT WITH THE ODDLY INTIMATE TENSION I CANT TAKE IT JUST KISS ALREADY AAAAAAAAAAAA (He's down to fuck a vampire too. Got it.)

AWHHHHH SAD WET CAT LEX NOOOOO D:

Fitz is just, "Wait wut-- You weren't supposed to say that-- That wasn't in the script-- I'm supposed to be the wet cat here!"

Oooo the fancy schmancy ✨European✨ soaps~

Fitz, buddy, I think you're (at least partially) wrapping yourself around his finger, but go off ig.

I WAS LITERALLY MENTALLY JUST THINKING LIKE "Oh yeah Lex's "good looks". Y'know, like that totally sexy unruly hair, that extremely hot untucked shirt, the general lack of care or effort put into his appearance outside of the bare minimum basics. Those good looks. So irresistibly handsome, I know." AND THEN HE STARTS UNIRONICALLY DOING THAT HIMSELF LMFAO (To be fair, I do aesthetically like messy hair, so I can see where he's coming from with that lmfao)

Fitz is bread confirmed-- HE'S A LOAF!!! LIKE A CAT-- CAT LOAF FITZ!!!!!!! I am tempted to draw this man as a cat now. I was in the Warriors fandom for a good while too, so I'm certainly no stranger to drawing cats. I could even get the calligraphy pen out to sign his name all fancy-like, complete with dramatic flourishes and all. ...This might actually happen.

Awww Fitz missing the attention nooooo D:-- Immediately followed by the premise of manipulative flirting lmfao. Of course.

OH SHIT NOOOO!!!! LEX NOOOOO!!!! THE POOR GUY CANT CATCH A BREAK!!! WHEN I SAID WET CAT I DIDNT MEAN "DRENCHED IN YOUR OWN BLOOD" WET!!!! Also lemme guess, Lex has been going out and entrancing hunters like we saw a couple characters ago, and tonight was a night where that plan backfired a little.

SHIT DON'T MAKE LEX WHIMPER PATHETICALLY LIKE THAT-- GOD DAMN!!! IT'S NOT BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE IT-- I LOVE IT-- BUT BECAUSE MY MOM IS GOING TO HEAR ME LOSING MY SHIT OVER THIS ISTG JDBDJSBSJSBSJSB

"Fitz wasted no time unbuttoning Alexander's shirt and tossing it aside, an action that was purely in his master's best interest for treating his injury and nothing more." Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say Fitz.

Hi. I left for dinner and now I am back many hours later. Let's continue.

I lowkey love those moments where a character that's trying to be self reliant does that very long, hesitant pause thing before revealing the truth. Like they duck their head away and look at the ground and everything. Also called the fact that he got shot by a hunter lookit me go!

"And yet, the arrow didn't imbed itself into your flesh all by itself, sir." You don't know that. SENTIENT MISSILE ARROW BEAM ATTACK GO--

HA!!! I'M A WIZARD, HARRY!!!! CALLED IT!! LETS GOOOOO POGGIES BABAGABOOSH!!!!!

AWWWWWW!!!! LEX IS TOUCH STARVED-- SOMEBODY GIVE THIS WET CAT SOME HEAD PATS!!! STAT!!!!! ALSO FITZ-- WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE ODDLY SEXUAL TENSION??? GOD DAMNIT FUCKING-- KISS DAMN YOU!!!! (He's so down to fuck a vampire. Got it.)

FITZ IS TOUCH STARVED TOO???? SOMEBODY GET THIS CAT-MAN SOME HEAD PATS!!!! STAT!!!!! LEX! FITZ! PAT EACH OTHER ON THE HEAD!!! PROBLEM SOLVED!!! :D!!!

FITZ YOU ARE PLAYING A DANGEROUS GAME THERE DAMN--

WAIT THEY ACTUALLY-- WAIT I WASN'T-- I DIDNT MEAN IT-- WAIT-- W A I T-- I SHOULD'VE BEEN MORE CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT I WISHED FOR I GUESS-- I DIDNT FUCKING MEAN IT-- I WAS ONLY DOING THE FUCKING HAHA FUNNI-- PLEASE-- HELP-- HELP-- iM fiNE!!! iM sOoO fINe riGHt NOw!!!! (noises that can only be described as demons leaving and entering my body)

I will never get over this.

GEEZUS FUCKING CHRIST FITZ DAMN OK POWER BOTTOM MUCH????? HDBDJSBSKSBKS F U C K--

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Sorry. That was mandatory. (That also took me way too long to find tbh)

OH NOW THEY'RE PERSONAL. DAMN. OK. Well-- kinda hard not to be after-- well-- that.

Also awwwww Fitz is starting to feel a little like he matters. My sweet cat-like boi ofc you do.

Conclusion: They all still need hugs. But I mean-- I'll take a kiss too. Close enough. Still need more hugs tho. I will not rest until hugs are acquired. (Also maybe expect a cat Fitz doodle at some point. Maybe.)

The Rare Bookseller Part 53: Fitz's Terrible Idea

Prev > Masterlist

tw: conditioning, mind control, Stockholm syndrome, arrow wound, blood, blood drinking

August 1905

Alexander was seated peacefully by the fire, a soft blanket draped across his lap, lost in the enormous musty book in his hands. It was a scene of perfect tranquility. A perfect scene for Fitz to disrupt.

"So, what are you reading, sir?" he said, flopping down sideways on the couch and draping himself halfway across Alexander's lap, jostling his book and looking up at him with a shameless grin.

His master sighed, but smiled at Fitz. "I was reading about the customs and ways of the local faefolk."

"Faefolk, sir? You mean like fairies?" Fitz asked. "I knew a guy who was running a racket making fake pictures of fairies to sell to rubes. You're saying they're real, sir?"

"They're very real, and you're unlikely to get a picture of them unless they want you to," said Alexander. "They used to be found in the human world much more often, before humans industrialized. Now, most of the once-proud clans are scattered tribes in slow decline in the few wild places left. Centuries ago, it was common enough for faefolk to mingle with humans that many humans today have traces of fae blood."

"Is that so, sir?" said Fitz. Normally he would find this kind of lecture to be boring, but his master's voice was so captivating that he could happily listen to anything.

"You do, too, I'm sure of it. Your blood smells of it."

"Oh, really, sir?" he said, sitting up a bit. "It's hard to imagine any of my dusty old ancestors making love to a fairy."

"I imagine your ancestors weren't as dusty and boring as you imagine. I expect some of them were more like you."

"Are you saying that I would cavort with a fairy, given the chance?" Fitz laughed. "Because you're absolutely right, sir, I would."

"You see what I mean?"

Fitz leaned in closer, shamelessly running his hand through Alexander's hair. "Well, if I'm a fairy, you'd better be careful, sir, or one day I'll drag you away to fairy-land."

"I dearly wish you would," said Alexander, serious and sad.

Fitz's breath caught. They stared at each other for a long moment. And then the spell between them was broken.

"Unfortunately, I need to go out tonight. Business."

"What business is more important than this, sir?" said Fitz, irritated at being spurned and annoyed that he was irritated.

"It's important. I'll tell you what it is eventually. But for now, I have to go."

And so Fitz found himself alone once more in front of the slowly dying fire, eating an apple, with nothing to occupy his mind but his own thoughts -- the worst way to spend his evening.

He was growing too comfortable here, he knew that. The manor was filled with dust and the scent of deteriorating book bindings, but once he'd gotten used to that, it was strangely like a home. It was less ostentatiously luxurious than the mansion of his childhood, but somehow, despite being a vampire's manor, more comfortable and less oppressive. He slept on the finest sheets, ate expensive foods, and bathed with a wide selection of high-end imported toiletries. Alexander, despite his ability to sink Fitz into a stupor with a word, never criticized, never spoke in anger, never demanded anything of Fitz but his blood.

And thanks to the many layers of mesmeric spell he was under, that blood was all too easy to give.

Alexander, his vampiric master, was the real problem. Between his mesmerism, good looks, and quiet charms, he had Fitz firmly wrapped around his finger, like it or not. Even during the day, when he tossed and turned in a fruitless attempt to sleep, he thought of Alexander, his unkept hair, his gentle hands, and especially his captivating voice. He knew he shouldn't feel that way about a vampire who had purchased him from an auction and was keeping him captive and in dire peril, but his idiotic emotions and the spell laid thick on his mind said otherwise.

It wasn't as though it was likely that Alexander had genuine feelings towards him, no matter how much it seemed that way at times. Fitz knew he was a convenient source of blood. Effectively a grocery item. He knew better than to think his master's need was anything more than that.

Fitz sighed as he tossed the half-eaten apple into the air, missing the catch and watching as it rolled under a couch. Alexander had been leaving for the night more frequently lately, and Fitz was painfully bored without an audience for his chatter and whims.

An audience! Apart from his freedom, that was the main thing he was missing out of life. He needed the stage, the rush of applause, the thrill of holding a crowd captive. Alexander had promised him he could have it, but since then he'd dismissed Fitz when he asked about it.

That thought gave Fitz some direction for what he wanted to do with the evening. He marched upstairs to his bedroom and donned an eye-catching purple frock with an actual collar. He wanted something to keep Alexander's attention without enticing him to feed, so that Fitz could flirt his way into what he wanted.

And then he waited for his master to return. And waited. And waited.

He really shouldn't be so worried about the vampire who was keeping him captive. After all, if something happened to his master, maybe the spell would lift from him, he'd come to his senses, and he could escape this place. That's what he tried to tell himself, but the idea that something could happen to Alexander filled him with a sick dread instead.

Just as he was on the verge of tearing his hair out in frustration, the front door opened and Alexander staggered inside. His steps were ragged and he was panting hard, the problem plain to see -- an honest-to-god arrow sticking out of his upper arm.

"God damn," he said. "What happened to you, sir?"

"Fitz," said Alexander with pleading eyes. "Please…"

That was more than enough to make him abandon all his plans, as clearly his master was in no state for his skillful manipulations. Fitz rushed to prop Alexander up.

"Help me upstairs, to my bathroom. I need to treat this wound."

"How the hell did you get shot with an arrow here in the city, sir?"

"Can the explanation wait until I've removed the arrow?"

"That's fair, sir." Fitz guided his master up the stairs as Alexander winced and whimpered.

Fitz had been in his master's bedroom a few times before, primarily to help him with his hair and outfit, and was comforted by the fact that Alexander's sleeping quarters was as much of a disaster as his had always been. He had ample experience picking his way through discarded laundry on the floor, and soon he was helping his master sit at the edge of his bathtub. Fitz wasted no time unbuttoning Alexander's shirt and tossing it aside, an action that was purely in his master's best interest for treating his injury and nothing more.

"Get a towel ready, a green one from the bottom shelf, and some bandages. I'm going to pull out the arrow."

"Doesn't that do more harm than good, sir?" said Fitz, preparing the requested items anyway..

"That may be true for a human at risk of bleeding out, but this wound can't kill me. The faster I remove the arrow, the faster I can start to heal."

"If you say so, sir."

Alexander wrapped the old towel around the arrow, and Fitz watched in horrified fascination as he took a deep breath and yanked. The blood gushing from the wound soaked straight through the towel as Alexander pressed it to his arm, making some truly godawful noises. Fitz fidgeted nervously, wanting to do something to help but feeling entirely out of his depth. He grabbed a washcloth off the bottom shelf and ran it under warm water.

"Here, sir, let me wash the wound."

"It's fine. I just need bandages."

"It could fester, sir, and I don't think either of us would enjoy that."

"It won't fester. The same magic that keeps this dead body upright also protects it from rot and infection. Otherwise I'd be little better than a bloated corpse."

Fitz shifted nervously, uneasy at the reminder that the handsome face in front of him was, in fact, long dead. "Let me wash it anyway, sir."

"…All right." Alexander took the towel off the wound and presented it to Fitz, who was struggling hard to not get woozy and keel over at the sight of it. He took it in his hands as though he were an experienced field medic, dabbing at it with the warm washcloth, and he felt vindicated as the pain on Alexander's face began to recede slightly.

"So… you've removed the arrow, sir."

"So I have."

"You told me you were going to explain how you were shot, sir."

Alexander scowled and looked away, remaining silent for so long that Fitz thought he would have to badger him to get anything out. "Hunter," he finally said.

"Hunter, sir?"

"A vampire hunter. Every city with a vampire population attracts them, a small but dedicated group."

"Vampire hunters…" It wasn't a possibility Fitz had thought of, but he supposed that it made sense.

"I don't usually have any trouble with hunters," Alexander said. "They mostly hunt vampires who prey on people in the streets. I keep my own thrall, and generally stay confined to the manor. Besides that, my vampiric aura is enough to keep most hunters at bay."

"And yet, this arrow didn't embed itself in your flesh all by itself, sir."

"No, it didn't."

"So why'd a hunter attack you this time, sir?"

"I had hoped not to tell you yet, but I suppose you should know," said Alexander. "I'm recruiting hunters to try and kill my sire."

Fitz looked to the bloody gash in front of him, then down at the discarded arrow. "Far be it from me to criticize my master, sir, but it seems your recruitment tactic may leave something to be desired."

Alexander chuckled. "Hunters won't help a vampire willingly, even to kill another vampire. They have to be persuaded."

"So you're mesmerizing them into doing your dirty work, sir?"

"A dozen so far, and I hope to get at least a dozen more."

"A dozen, sir…" Fitz put down the washcloth and began to wrap Alexander's arm in clean bandages as he thought about this. Alexander was risking his life against a dozen vampire hunters or more to try and kill his sire. Primarily to protect him.

He should be concerned, but instead, his treacherous heart fluttered. His hand brushed against Alexander's chest. His master gave it a long and lonely look, as though he'd never been touched there before.

His master was so solitary. How long had it been since he'd last been touched?

How long had it been since Fitz had last been touched?

Before he could think better of it, he ran his hand through Alexander's soft hair, palm lingering on his cheek as he traced down his face. To Fitz's surprise, his master leaned into the touch, drinking it in like a parched man. Fitz repeated the action with more confidence this time, enjoying the wistful look in his eyes.

"…Be careful," Alexander said finally.

"Careful of what, sir?"

"What you're doing. You must know by now that my feelings towards you are… You should be careful."

Fitz's eyes went wide. Was this a manipulation? Alexander, still looking tired and pained, seemed in no state to be engaging in manipulation.

"Well, sir, I appreciate your advice, but I've found that I never get anywhere in life when I'm being careful."

He was pushing his hand through Alexander's hair to the back of his head, pressing his master's lips to his, hardly caring that they were cold and chapped. He'd wanted this since the first time they'd met in the auction house, and the fact that it was a terrible idea only made Fitz want it more.

Alexander's hands closed around his arms as if to push him away, but he didn't. Instead he pushed forward, returning the kiss, and Fitz felt a giddy thrill in his heart at having finally charmed the stubborn, lonely vampire into reciprocating his affection. They tumbled onto the bathroom floor, Alexander halfway on top of Fitz, and Alexander was desperate as though he hadn't been kissed in a hundred years. Well, he probably hadn't.

Alexander suddenly stopped and drew back, guilt on his face. "I -- I shouldn't -- "

Fitz closed the distance between them once more before either of them could ruin the moment by thinking too much. He needed this. He needed the touch, and even if it was unnaturally cold, he was still drinking it in. He especially needed this infuriatingly stubborn vampire to prove his affections.

It wasn't love, Fitz knew that much. It was bloodlust and regular lust and need, and that suited Fitz better. He would never understand love, but need -- he could understand that.

Alexander's breath hitched, and Lex thought it was desire, until he grasped at the wound on his shoulder. In the excitement, Fitz had almost forgotten about the crossbow bolt. He opened his mouth to ask, but the words died in his throat, as he found himself suddenly enthralled, thoughts scattering.

"The wound pains me, and a bit of blood would help me heal," he said. "I can't be this close to you without the urge overtaking me."

"Good," said Fitz, succumbing easily to the desire. He pushed his master's head gently to the space between neck and shoulder. "Take me, then. Drink from me. I'm all yours."

Alexander hummed, his lips pressed to Fitz's neck and his voice reverberating in his head, sending Fitz further into a dream of bliss. He barely felt the puncture, lying sprawled on the bathroom floor with his master on top of him, swimming in pleasure as his blood drained from his body. The feeding turned to soft nibbles at his jaw and his ear, and Fitz didn't care that his master's lips were stained with blood as he was pulled into a kiss.

"You should warm my bed tonight, Fitz," Alexander murmured into his ear.

Fitz raised his eyebrows. "Is that invitation what I think it is, sir…?"

"…if you're thinking of something lewd, I'm afraid not," said Alexander. "My… desires of that nature cooled along with my blood. I'm truly asking for you to warm my bed."

"So I can serve as a glorified hot water bottle as well as a bloodbag, is that right, sir?"

"No," said Alexander with painful sincerity. "You're much more than a bloodbag."

"And what else am I, sir?" said Fitz, looking up at his master, flashing his least trustworthy smile. "A brilliant entertainer? A scintillating conversationalist?"

"Fitz," said Alexander, placing a hand on his cheek and catching Fitz's eyes with his. "My Fitz."

"Your Fitz," he repeated, feeling mesmerized once more although he wasn't sure his master was actually doing anything. "I suppose I am, sir."

His master looked away. "You don't actually have to call me 'sir' or 'master', you know. It's fine if you don't."

Fitz grinned. "Oh, is that so, Alexander, sir?" The grin left his face as he realized what he'd just done. "Oh, damn that Miss Lily. I'm not going to be able to stop."

Alexander chuckled. "I don't really go by Alexander, anyway. Only my sire and strangers call me that. I go by Lex."

"Lex," repeated Fitz, leaning into his ear, "sir," he added, as seductively as possible, enjoying how his master -- no, Lex -- shivered.

Prev > Masterlist

Thanks for reading! Next week, Oliver gets some help from Lily.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

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@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping

#good soup #epic soup #delicious soup #immaculate soup #bloody soup #damn this post got long.

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jungwonenthusiast · 4 years ago

Note

can I please request for prompts 2, 5, 10, 12 for hard&soft dom!heeseung and an innocent!fem!s/o from enhypen smut prompt list? prompt no. 5 to be said by the reader while the rest by heeseung

A/N: forgive me if there r any typos lol i hope u like it :)

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), degredation, slight corruption kink

Word count: 2.4 k

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm as another jumpscare appears on the movie screen. He giggles at you. “Is it gone yet?” you whisper and he nods.

Today was your four month anniversary with Heeseung and you decided to treat him by taking him to a scary movie he’s been wanting to see.You’re not a huge fan of them but you figured it’d be a way for you to cuddle him without raising too much suspicion.

He kept a hand on your thigh throughout the movie, occasionally squeezing and rubbing it over your pants.

You try to ignore the film by keeping your eyes on him. His hands, his legs, his hands, his profile. Anything to distract yourself from the poor family being killed on the screen.

It isn’t long before the movie ends and you walk out to Heeseung’s car.

“The brother was such an idiot. Why didn’t he just call the police?” he says while starting the engine. (haha engene lol sorry)

“The police can’t stop ghosts.” you chuckle.

“Maybe NASA could’ve figured something out.” he grabs your thigh again, it’s kind of his thing. “I’m surprised you survived.”

“Yup, my love for you overcomes my hatred for horror movies.”

He smiles and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go to my place.” he says and you frown.

“But all the boys-”

He cuts you off. “The maknaes aren’t there, they’re paintballing in Itaewon.”

You groan. “Fine.”

The boys’ dorm is never your first choice which is understandable without elaboration. But you try not to get annoyed and instead enjoy living in the moment.

He has the windows cracked open and the wind is whipping through his hair, making him look like a moviestar.

Sunghoon and Jake are in their own rooms when you get there so at least there’s some peace and quiet.

Heeseung plops onto his bed. “Come here sweetheart.” he says with his arms out to you.

You smile and snuggle up to him, resting your head on his chest.

He pets your hair and kisses your forehead. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re prettier.” you say and he chuckles.

“Nuh uh.” he says and sits up. “Lemme see your pretty face.”

You sit up too as he holds your face delicately in his hands. “You’re so gorgeous I wanna kiss you everywhere.” he kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, and your nose, your eyelids, then your jaw, and down, down, down your neck. Your heart beat starts to speed up. You never tell him, but your neck is your weakness. He finally pulls away to give you a proper kiss on the lips.

“C’mere.” he says and pulls you onto his lap. You let out a small squeal.

He holds your waist tight as he kisses you again, this time slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan a bit, enjoying the sensation.

You guys had made out before and even grinded a bit but it never went further than that. Not because you didn’t want it. Of course you wanted it. There have been nights where you spent hours imagining what it would be like. You already knew that he’d be sweet, but you kind of wanted more than that. You wanted him to take control and boss you around. Maybe today will be the day, you think to yourself.

You start to slowly rock your hips against his and he lets out a low groan. His fingers travel up your hoodie and he’s delighted to find out that you aren’t wearing a bra. He massages you and pinches your nipples a bit as you grind on his hard on. You’re already so stimulated, you could cum just like this.

Heeseung’s curious as to why you’re acting like this today. Usually by now it’d be over, but why would he complain about you being naughty, especially when it’s been such a big fantasy of his to corrupt you. His darling little girlfriend who checks in with her parents everyday and wouldn’t dare to skip school all sprawled out under him, whimpering and begging for release. God, he could think about it all day.

He flips you onto your back and pushes your hoodie up, exposing your torso. Your arms fly to cover yourself.

“Stop that princess,” he kisses your stomach. “Let me see you.”

You slowly pull your arms away and he goes right to kissing your chest. “So perfect.” he whispers, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

You’re already squirming underneath him, eager for him to touch you somewhere else. And as if he read your mind, his fingers start to play with the band of your pants.

He quickly unbuttons them and slides them off your legs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks and you nod eagerly.

“I’ve never done this before.” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he kisses your knee. “Just relax.”

He kisses your neck, licking it and nipping at it, leaving a blooming bruise. Your body tenses as he circles your clit.

“I didn't know you were this sensitive.” he smiles.

You feel your face heat up. It’s kind of embarrassing. He was barely touching you plus it was on top of your underwear.

“I’m just teasing baby.” he kisses your cheek and continues the circling motion.

Soft moans leave your mouth as he does so. He pulls away and notices a wet patch already forming on your underwear.

His fingers slip into the waistband. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Please?”

“You submit to me so well,” he nips at your neck. “I love it.”

His fingers find your slit and you whine.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers as he rubs your clit. “Did I get you that worked up princess?”

You nod pathetically, already drunk on his touch.

He circles around your hole for a bit before slowly pushing his middle finger into you. You hold on tight to his arm, getting used to the foreign feeling.

He pumps it in and out of you a couple of times. “You ready for another one?”

You nod and whine as his ring finger stretches you out.

“You’re doing so good.” he whispers and kisses your forehead.

Your moans get more and more needy as he curls his fingers in you hitting a spot that you’ve never felt before.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Feel good?” he asks and you nod. “I bet it does.”

He shifts down and settles his face between your legs.

“Wait what are you doing?” you ask him, shutting your knees. “I want to taste you,” he says. “Is that okay?”

You contemplate for a moment. The thought of it makes you a bit shy but then you imagined how good it would feel and that won over everything. “Yeah.” you nod and he smiles.

His fingers are still curling in you as he kisses your thighs, leaving small marks on the way down to where you need it the most.

After what feels like years, his tongue finally finds your clit. Your thighs shut from the sudden pleasure.

He chuckles. “Keep em open baby.” he uses his free hand to keep you spread.

He moans into you. “Tastes so fucking good.”

It’s so much to take in at once; his fingers in you, his tongue drawing circles on your clit, the vibrations you feel every time he groans. You feel overstimulated but in the best way possible.

Your fingers tug on his hair as your thighs begin to tremble.

“Don’t stop don’t stop,” you cry out.

His grip on you tightens and he moans into you, encouraging you to cum in his mouth.

A string of curse words leaves your lips as you reach your high, and it’s the hardest you’ve ever came in your life. It’s like you’re floating up in the clouds, and you never want to come back down.

Heeseung kisses you, giving you a taste. He holds you tight in his arms and tries to calm your shaky breathing.

“You did so good doll.” he kisses your cheek.

You hold onto him as your heart rate goes down to normal.

“Here let me go get you a towel.” he starts get off the bed but you grab his arm.

“Wait we’re done?” you ask and he looks at you. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks and you nod.

“Yes,” you say and he chuckles.

He sits back down onto the bed. “I didn’t expect that.”

You climb on top of him and give him a passionate kiss, sliding your hands under his hoodie.

He pulls it over his head with ease.

You admire his lean body for a moment before kissing his neck and his collar bones. “Can you fuck me please?” you ask him.

He smirks. “Your wish is my command.” he flips you over onto your back and unbuttons his black jeans. Just watching him do it makes you wet.

He climbs over you, rubbing his tip on your clit. He sighs into your neck.

“You ready princess?” he asks and you nod vigorously.

He slowly pushes into you and you wince a bit from the stretch.

“Ow ow ow.” you say quietly and he stops.

“You okay? Does it hurt a lot?” he asks.

“It’s not bad.” you say through gritted teeth.

He kisses you, giving you time to adjust to his length. He pets your hair and tells you how gorgeous you look.

“Please start moving.” you ask him and he listens, slowly thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he moans. “So fucking tight.”

You whimper so loud as his tips brushes against your g-spot that you clamp your hand over your mouth, worried that Sunghoon and Jake would pick up on what was going on.

He pulls your hand away. “Be louder, I want them to hear you.”

“But-”

“Do as I say sweetheart.” he cuts you off.

Of course you melt under him. How could you not. He’s so perfect. He’s the type of boy that only exists in books.

“What a good girl,” he kisses your shoulder. “Look how well you take it.”

You grab a pillow and cover your face with it, you can’t help but want to conceal your moans.

He throws it off and grabs your jaw hard. “What’d I say about that? Don’t you want them to know how much of a slut you are for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Speak up when I talk to you.” he says sternly. His words make you throb and he notices. “Do you like it when I’m mean?” he smirks at you.

“Yeah,” you admit, sheepishly.

“There you go again being all quiet, keep that up and I’ll edge you until you’re begging.” he threatens you with a good time.

“What if I want you to do that anyway.” you say flirtatiously.

He raises an eyebrow. “I can make that happen.”

His thumb finds your clit and the sensation of him rubbing you and his cock ramming in and out of your pussy sends you so close over the edge.

The look on your face is so angelic and hopeless, you’re better than anything he could imagine.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” he kisses you. “You look so pretty while being fucked.”

He snaps his hips into yours and your eyes roll back.

“Just like that.” you whine.

“How bad do you want it?” he asks you.

“So bad,” you say out of desperation. At this point you don’t care. Heeseung had taken over your mind, ego, and pride. “You feel so fucking good inside of me.”

He smiles. “How could such a sweet voice say such dirty words.” Then all of the sudden he pulls out. You nearly cry out from the unexpected emptiness.

“What the fuck,” you swear at him.

“You’re the one who asked for this.” he says, still slowly rubbing your clit.

You whimper. “I take it back. I need you.”

“No take backs sweetheart.” he tsks.

He kisses your chest and pinches at your nipples. You writhe under him, needing him in you.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably a minute or so, he slams back into you and right after being satisfied, he pulls out again.

“Heeseung please,” you whine. “Please I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“You have, but I like doing this to you.” he kisses you. “Who knew my innocent girl would be begging for my cock like this.”

You pull at his waist. “I need it.” you tell him in the sweetest voice you could get out.

He sighs. “I’ll never win.” he kisses you again before pushing into you.

“Fuck yes,” you moan in relief. “Faster please.”

Thank god he listens to you.

You cling onto his back, pushing your nails into his skin a bit. It only takes thirty seconds to get you on the edge and Heeseung can tell by the way your moans are getting high pitched.

“Cum on this cock sweetheart,” he says lowly. “Be a good girl for me.”

And just like that, your whimpering his name like it’s the only word you know; like it’s your mantra.

“That’s it baby,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Your pussy pulsing around him sends him into euphoria and he groans into your neck.

You don’t even realize the tears on your cheeks until he pointed it out. He looks at you in shock and holds your face in his hands. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck I’m so sorry pumpkin I-”

“No no it just felt really good,” you giggle. “I didn’t even know I started crying.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighs in relief and kisses your forehead. “You’re the best pussy I’ve ever had you know.”

You laugh. “Stop it, you sound like a man whore.”

“Just being honest.” he smiles and pulls you into his arms.

“Shit,” you curse to yourself.

“What is it?”

“Jake and Sunghoon definitely heard us.” you say, wide eyed.

“Yeah probably,” he says “they probably got off on it too.”

Your face twists in disgust and you shove him in the shoulder.

He cackles. “I mean wouldn’t you?”

You think to yourself. “Yeah I probably would.”

#enhypen smut #Heeseung smut #Kpop smut

952 notes · View notes

demon-childe · 4 years ago

Text

Win or Lose | Childe x F!Reader

relationship - Childe x F!Reader rating - E - this is... pretty filthy warnings - spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, vaginal sex, use of c*nt word count : 3.2k ao3 - here notes - this has literally just been known amongst me and my friends as the “childe spanking fic”.... so yup, enjoy

----

In one fell swoop, Childe’s successfully pinned you to the ground.

You had gotten distracted when he winked at you during your sparring session (cheap tactic – you think irritably) and then stumbled over your damn feet and before you knew it, he’d swept you to the ground. The laugh he’d let out sent a wave of irritation through you.

When you clamber onto your knees to try and get back up, he drops down next to you, a hand pressing firmly against your back and pressing your face down onto the ground beneath you. You let out a discontented noise, squirming and his other hand moves to your wrists, holding them together behind your back.

“H-hey! Lemme go,” you complain, wriggling. The position you’re in is certainly less than appropriate – face down, ass up - and you squirm uncomfortably.

“I must admit, you do look quite good like this,” Childe says, sounding far too pleased with himself. You can feel your face heat up and send a glare back at him. This isn’t the first time one of your sparring sessions has ended questionably, but the way he teases you still sparks a whirlwind of emotion in you.

“Oh, shut up,” you shoot back, half annoyed and half embarrassed.

Without warning, you’re met with a sharp stinging sensation blossoming across the swell of one ass cheek and you choke out a noise of surprise – he actually just spanked you. Molten heat comes to life in the pit of your gut, fast, too fast, and you grind your teeth irritably.

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to the winner of our little match?”

“You didn’t win-“

You’re interrupted by another slap, your voice breaking off in a shocked gasp. He laughs at you, actually laughs and you feel frustration bubbling in your chest. Squirming, you try to wiggle out of his grasp but he just tightens his grip on your wrists, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“You could stand to take your loss a little more graciously.”

He spanks you again. The pain makes you arch away from him, your body attempting to curl inwards but then you arch back, pressing your face against the floor, tilting your hips back as your control wanes. Dammit.

“Oh, good girl,” Childe praises and you want to melt away, shame fluttering through you when his words send heat curling in your belly and between your thighs.

“Sadist,” you snarl, and he laughs again. You can feel him shift next to you and you see his shadow move into the corner of your vision. His hot breath fans across your neck and he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Masochist,” he counters and you huff in response, wriggling.

You yelp in response as a hand collides with your ass again, but this time his touch doesn’t relent. You feel his palm move in slow circles over your abused cheek and you can’t help but let out a small relieved noise, pushing back against the contact.

“Don’t you wanna be good for me?” He inquires and you chew on your cheek nervously, eyes flittering about. “No?”

You’re about to open your mouth to reply when he spanks you again and this time the noise that escapes you is neither shocked nor pained, but a soft whine.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you a nice little reward,” he singsongs, voice a tempting whisper in your ear. “Even though you lost. What do you say, huh?”

His hand slowly slides down the back of your thigh, then back up, fingers tracing a line inward, dangerously close to your center and you can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Nervously, you glance back at him and his blue eyes are trained intently on you, waiting for a response. When you give a shaky nod, he grins dangerously.

“Count,” Childe instructs you simply and before you can say anything, his hand meets your ass. You arch back at him and he grabs one abused cheek roughly before drawing back and spanking you yet again. You mumble. “Reward’s off the table if you don’t count.”

“One,” you say quietly. He does it again and a broken little noise escapes you. “Two.”

“Louder.”

“Two!”

Childe says nothing, but continues his punishment. With each smack, you feel need curl in your belly, your resolve wavering, voice tightening as the sting of the contact turns into something sharper, darker.

You whimper when he yanks your pants down your hips, shoving them to your knees. He takes your underwear with them, leaving your ass bare, and you feel the cool air against the heat of your core. Almost instinctively, you try to squeeze your thighs together to cover yourself and Childe responds to your actions with another slap.

“Should I leave bruises today, girlie?” He asks, almost absentmindedly, his gloved hand caressing and squeezing one abused cheek. A chuckle escapes him as you’re about to reply and you feel him slide a hand between your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Well, would you look at that?”

“You’re dripping,” Childe informs you before you feel a finger slide up your slit and he presses down on your clit a little too hard, earning a cry from you. A shudder overtakes you momentarily and you feel hot and cold in one fell swoop; lust clouds your mind and you can’t help but grind back against the contact. “Oh, look at you. So eager.”

“Childe – please.”

“I did say I would reward you, didn’t I?” He asks, soft but teasing and you whine when he stops touching you. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

He spanks you again, gloved hand colliding with the tender, abused flesh of your ass and you feel your cunt clench desperately around nothing and all you can think of is how badly you want.

“Ah!”

“Count again.”

You start over.

One.

Two.

Three.

Your head swims, sensation overwhelming you. With each strike, the ache inside you grows and at nine, the pain threatens to overtake your arousal and as if he knows, he pauses.

“One more.”

The last slap makes you cry out, teeth digging into your lower lip as you try and bite back tears. “T-ten.”

You hear Childe hum appreciatively and he skims his gloved fingers softly over your tender skin. You wince for a moment, then relax under his gentle touch.

“What a good girl,” he praises you and you can’t help the desperate little whimper that escapes you. “Are you ready for your reward?”

You nod as well as you can with your face pressed down into the floor and cast a needy look back at the Harbinger. He’s looking at you expectantly, still running one hand over your abused ass. As good as Childe is at hiding his feelings, you can see his pupils blown wide with lust, and it sends a wave of hunger through you.

“Please,” you say. “Please fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” Childe repeats, expression splitting into a dangerous little smirk, one brow arching high. “You already need it that bad, girlie?”

“Childe,” you plead, your voice needy and quiet. You’re not sure you’ve ever wanted someone to take you so badly before – shame is out the window and all you can focus on is how aroused you are and the ache between your thighs.

“Hmm,” he murmurs. “Who am I to deny such an obedient girl her reward?”

His grip on your wrists relents and you bring them forward to brace yourself against the ground, swallowing nervously. You can hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes it and you glance back at him. You watch hungrily as his cock springs free from the confines of his clothes and you can feel your face flush, mouth watering and you suck your lower lip into your mouth.

Childe moves between your calves, knocking one knee against your thighs to spread your legs further and you arch up at him eagerly.

His cock presses against you and a gasp escapes your lips, one hand flying to cover your mouth and trying to stifle the noise. You blink and he’s already grabbed your arm and yanked it back.

“Oh, no,” he says. “You asked for this. Now you’re going to let me hear how much you like it.”

“Childe, I - ah!”

He presses into you without warning, filling you in one thrust and you let out a broken moan. The stretch is divine agony – your walls fluttering around him as your body struggles to adjust – and your breath escapes you when he sheathes himself to the hilt. Childe curses and groans, hands finding your hips and gripping so tightly you can feel his nails digging into you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, easing his hips back and sliding out of you almost completely. You whimper and look back at him.

“Childe…” He grins at you in response.

He thrusts back into you without warning and you cry out, arching back at him as he fills you again. You’re woefully unprepared for the way his cock stretches you – body stuck somewhere between aching and craving – and you whimper pathetically.

There’s no hesitation before Childe sets a rhythm, fucking into you insistently and fully, every thrust leaving you gasping.

“So tight. Such a good girl for me,” he says, interrupting your thoughts and you tighten around him at the praise. He pauses mid-thrust when he feels it, a chuckle escaping his mouth and his hands glide from your hips up your back, fingers dancing over your spine.

“Fuck, d-don’t stop,” you stammer, pushing your hips back against his. “Please.”

“Go ahead,” Childe speaks. “Fuck that pretty little cunt on my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you start eagerly start pressing backwards against him, using him for your own pleasure. A whimper escapes you, one hand flying between your thighs to attend to your neglected clit. He grunts, a hand coming back to the abused swell of your ass and Childe spanks you again.

“Ah!”

Your pace stutters, hips canting at an angle and your walls clench around his length. He lets out a breathless little laugh when you do and you can feel the blunt edges of his nails dig into your hips.

“I didn’t say stop, girlie.”

If your body wasn’t strung so tightly, maybe you’d be embarrassed, but the way Childe fills you up leaves you stupid – eyes rolling back, a hot shudder going down your spine when you fuck back at him desperately. Your adrenaline is still so high from the sparring session all you can focus on is the pleasure building in your gut and the slick sound of you fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” the harbinger groans and you can feel him start meeting your thrusts, the pressure of your orgasm mounting higher as he hits deeper, harder, and you whimper. “What a good little slut you are for me.”

He presses back into you insistently now, fingers gripping you so tightly his nails might break skin, and the stinging sensation is lost somewhere in the hazy swirl of heat that coils in your gut.

“Yes – yes – yes, fuck, please, Childe!”

“Maybe next time I’ll fuck you in Foul Legacy form,” Childe pants, keeping his pace steady. “Really fill you up like you want, huh?”

You can’t help but picture it – the visual of him looming over you in his armor, caging you in with ease, claws tearing at your clothes as he splits you in two – and you’re gone. Your climax crashes into you and all you can do is keen, a hand flying over your mouth as your cunt spasms around Childe’s length. Loudly, he laughs.

“Did you just come?” He asks. His voice is cruel, taunting, and you feel a wave of shame wash over you momentarily when he stops fucking you. “How cute. You’re so pathetic.”

Something tightens in your belly at his words and you sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You open your mouth to reply, mind still lost in a haze of pleasure and then he starts fucking you in earnest – giving you no respite after your orgasm. He slams his hips to yours repeatedly, filling you relentlessly and you can feel your limbs going weak from the intensity of sensation he’s subjecting you to.

He changes angles and suddenly you’re too full, thighs shaking with the effort of keeping yourself together. The way he pounds into you has your head so fuzzy you can’t focus on anything but how overwhelming the feeling of him fucking you is, a cry tearing from your lips.

“T-too much, too much, please, fuck!”

“Too much?” He parrots back. “Tell me to stop, then.”

There’s a momentary lull in the pace of his movement and when you whimper helplessly instead, walls fluttering around him, he laughs. It’s cruel and taunting and so good and you moan when he resumes fucking you.

“That’s what I thought. You like when it’s too much, huh?”

He’s close – you think, maybe, but you can’t think straight - but the desperate way he fucks into you and the breathlessness in his taunts certainly makes it seem like his control is unraveling.

“Can you come again for me, girlie?” Childe spurs you on, leaning forward and down against you before snaking a hand between you. Fingers find your swollen, sensitive clit and he draws slick circles around it, eliciting a wail from you at the feeling of sharp, unrelenting pleasure. It’s so much, too much, and your body can’t decide between pain or pleasure, eyes welling with tears as your hips cant back at his and you cry out.

“Please!”

“Fuck,” he groans. “One more for me. One more. Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

His words push you further to the edge and you blankly register the feeling of his mouth against your shoulder, hot, heavy breaths tickling your skin and then he fucks harder into you, hips colliding with yours and before you know it, you’re crying and begging.

“Close! Ah - ha, close, close, please – Childe!”

Tears cascade down your cheeks and you sob as the tension tightens unbearably in your abdomen. You gasp for breath, your cunt tightening greedily around his dick.

“Come - come for me. Come on. Be a good girl and come for me,” he hisses in your ear, humid breath tickling across your neck. A noise rumbles from his lips, deep and desperate and then you feel his teeth press into your shoulder and you crumble.

Stars burst behind your eyes as Childe pulls another orgasm from you, the tight curl of tension in your belly suddenly releasing, and your mouth opens in a silent scream, nails digging into the ground. You hear him curse loudly from behind you, pace stuttering as he gives you one last, forceful thrust, and somewhere between the immobilizing pleasure, you think you can feel the way his cock throbs, emptying himself inside of you.

It takes a moment for your senses to return to you, heaving deep breaths in the aftershocks of your climax, and when Childe pulls out of you, a whimper escapes you, the feeling of emptiness causing you to tense and tighten around nothing.

“Shit,” you mumble quietly, face stained with tears as you try to hold yourself up on your arms. Behind you, the harbinger grunts and you feel him run a finger up your thigh and to your cunt.

“Look good filled with my cum,” he comments, a little breathless, a little tired, and then swipes a line up your slit, pushing some excess of his seed back into your abused hole. Your hips jerk and you hiss, reaching back to slap his hand away.

“Quit it,” you complain. “Sensitive.”

“Whoops,” he breathes with a small laugh before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then he pulls your pants back up your thighs, his attempt at redressing you lazy, underwear sitting skewed across your hips.

Shakily, you push yourself up onto your aching knees, fixing your clothes and you glance back at him. Childe’s still flushed, the pink tinge across his cheeks just starting to taper off, fingers hastily redoing the buttons on his pants and he looks up at you once he does. He flops back onto his ass, propping himself up with one arm.

“C’mere,” he says and before you have a chance to respond, he tugs you into him, back to chest and his arms wrap around you. He nuzzles against your neck and you squirm. “You alright?”

You hum and nod despite the humid warmth radiating between the two of you. “What time is it?”

“Dunno.”

“Think we went past the time I reserved the training room for?” You ask, leaning to the side to look at him. He laughs and then shrugs.

“Maybe,” he says nonchalantly, but then his eyes narrow as he smirks. “Although I did preemptively dole out a punishment for you, after all.”

You hum and look away, sighing and glancing at your hands and the dirt under your nails. “Hm. And what makes you think I’ve learned my lesson?”

There’s a pause before you look at him again, trying to stop yourself from smirking at the surprise in his eyes, and then he laughs, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling closed. Once he stops you watch his mouth curl into a little smirk, head tilting to the side curiously.

“Is that so?” He inquires.

“Maybe.”

His response is to thread fingers through your hair and tug – just gently enough to pull you back and bare your neck to him – and a feeling flickers to life inside of you - warm, content, languid.

“Troublesome girl,” he murmurs, voice tinged with affection and you let a smile tug at your lips. His mouth presses to your cheek in a quick kiss before he lets go of your locks. “Lucky you look so damn good crying for me.”

A knock at the heavy double doors of the room stirs the both of you from your comfortable haze.

“Two minutes,” Childe calls loudly enough for whoever it is to hear before untangling himself from you. Tiredly, you lean on each other to stand and you can’t ignore the pleasant ache that radiates from between your thighs. Once you collect your things, the two of you wander to the exit. There’s four recruits standing at the door looking irritated, but when they see Childe, their expressions change.

“Sorry about the tardiness,” you attempt to offer.

“You’re thirty minutes over,” one of them complains.

“Ah, don’t worry about it – my fault, really,” Childe says before anyone else can interject. “I’ll make sure she’s properly reprimanded. Room’s all yours, recruits.”

They file past you quietly and you swear you hear one of them whispering to another about what kind of “punishment” Tartaglia would possibly dish out. When the door slams shut behind them, you give Childe a look.

“Reprimanded, hm?” You inquire.

“Reprimanded,” he parrots back. “Now how about you go get yourself cleaned up, girlie? We can work out the logistics of a suitable punishment later.”

“When would that be?”

“My office. Tonight. Say nine?” He suggests – and it’s not really a suggestion so much as a demand but you nod anyway.

“Yes, sir,” you acquiesce and you can see his gaze darken just slightly. He waves two fingers at you before turning to wander off and you do the same.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says from a few feet away and you pause, glancing back at him. He grins dangerously at you over his shoulder, blue eyes flashing.

“Don’t bother wearing any panties.”

#genshin impact fic #genshin fic #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x female reader #my writing #nsfw.txt #genshin smut

726 notes · View notes

happytroopers · 3 years ago

Text

Boba Fett season finale shit post

Spoilers below. Obviously.

Rip hot twilek your 6 minutes of screen time will be duly forgotten

WAIT THEY KILLED MAX REBO

Fuck the Pykes man

I can tolerate space drug trade but I draw the line at killing renowned jizz musicians

God Fennec Boba and Din in one shot now there’s a sandwich I wanna be in

Many thoughts and yet none at all just sin

Not them trying to redeem the mayor

“I have an idea to draw Fett out.” I’m sending g that there’s the inspo for a new WAVE of self insert fanfic

XWINF

Luke coming to help his boy toy???

The child????

YEP

That’s artooie:)))

THE BABY

Wait can he drive

Me and PELI are on the same page

HES SO TINY

BRIGHT EYES

R2 s like we’re on a SCHEDULE

ME TOO PELI ITS A TERRILBE NAME

WAIT DID BE CHOOSE THE SRMOR

Is he dropping out of Jedi school

If so I’m gonna have to start kinning baby Yoda

Goth Wookiee :)

Someone’s gonna sneak up on them

Din stop being so sexy

God boba in his armor is so sexy

This is the showdown we wanted in clone wars

Star Wars-issficstion of southern idioms

Ok but two of them are wearing beskar and u are not

Boba said “no 💖🖕”

Why do I feel like fennec is gonna take the brunt of this

Fennec being the sexy voice of reason as always

“Ur going soft in ur old age” as if Bane isn’t fucking ancient

I love my little beuqacratic wiggler

Yep just as I fucking thought

NOT GOTH WOOKIE

I don’t appreciate them ripping my found family trope to pieces

So that augmented eye is very helpful to his aim huh

Not the water waste

God I love her

SHES SO SEXY

Lil punk said lesbian panic!!!

The only woman I would call Mommy

The last time Din got trapped in a blown out bar, it didn’t go well

We love a loyal bestie

More self insert inspo “I’m with you til we both fall”

WIGGLER SAYS I DONT WANNA DIE HERE

NOT THE EDUCATION ELITISM

He said I’m not afraid to pathetic

Is he not gonna read that first

What if it just said “fuck u losers”

Yay space slurs!!!!

Pls be inappropriate

“Nothing 💖”

Creative writing king! He wrote that so fast

Jet pack hotties

INLOVE THE KNEE BLASTERS

THE SLUT TURN DIN J LOVE U

Overkill a lil boys???

DIN WHY ARE TOUSING HR UNARMORED HANDS RO GAUARD UR BESKAR HELMETED HEAD

Awww yay :)

Can y’all imagine like living in this part of town??? Just like, trying to get brunch, and this shit happening.

No the moped!!!!

YES CITY FOLK COUNTRY FOLK FISCORS

Disapproved dad says save it

GOTH WOOKIE

Din’s thighs :)

Oh no

Hey maybe we should start shooting now

Yes start shooting now that they put their RAY SHIELDS up

Ahhhh clone wars nostalgia

Goth WOOKIE said show off

Well that was a waste of a missile

Quick mafs

“You’ve run out of friends” me too boba

God I love this man

Both of them actually

Hey maybe let’s not just run in a mobbed straight line guys????

There is one droid chasing you and approx 60 of y’all

Slutty lil spin there

Din is so fast ????

FHE HAMMER TBDKW

Bonk !!!

She’s gonna show that baby and dins gonna be like “YOU BROUGHT MY SON INTO A BATTLE ZONE????”

I fight usually leads to dying

They’re in love

THE IMMEDJATE FARHER PANJC

FBE HUG ONG Y’ALL IM CRYING

HES SK HAPLY TENDER AND SOFT I LOVE HIM

Fave dilf

HE CAUGHT HIM

Not the tooth!!!

YES YES YES YES YES

Zillow beast vibes

Boba lemme sit on ur lap while you ride

NO NO NO

ok that was hot

Remisnent if genonosis Kenobi

YES BABY DO UR THINK PROTECT HR DAD

ARE U OK

Boba u are so hot

They’re in LOVE

But fr fr city x country makes the best pairing

Imagine if that was ur house

Boba I demand reparations

Who is the lil pretty boy we keep seeing

NO BO NO NO NO

Not mysmotinal support space beast!!!!

They’re gonna date!!!!

Wiggler x PELI!!!!

YES INWAS WAITJNF DOR ONE OF THEM TO GET EATEN

I doubt they’ll kill off Bane. But liek…. What if they did

Also that’s ANOTHER problem for the city

HOODLUMS

HEY YO

Mmmm Jango ment

Just grab his little face tubes

YES STICK STUCK STUCK

Oh maybe they will kill him

Makes since tho he’s like OLD OLD

He’s wAs old in Clone Wars

Oh nvm he’s def not dead

STOP SOOTING HIM

Ok now for a King Kong parallel

NO NOT THE BALL

ok that was hot Din

NO NO NO NO

KID

HIM LITTLE WADDLE

HIS EARS

HIS EYES

How to train ur dragon parrlell

CLONE WARS KENOBJ PARALLELL

HIM LITTLE HANDS

NAP BUDDIES

Found my new screen saver

Yay decaptiated heads are back!!!

They should hire a tourism director

YES FENNEC FUCK IT UP

So sneaky :)

NOT THE REN FAIR MUSIC

Rip to the ham guards

THE TAPS

truly encapsulated what having a toddler is like

I LOVE THEM

Is there an end credit scene

Just realized that in the choral grunting they’re saying Fett- I’m an idiot

Yep end credit scene

I swear if it’s bane

COBBY BOY

Boba quit modifying ppl without their consent!!!

18 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

How would kiri or bakugo (or anyone you feel like tbh) react to a reader kinkier than them? Yan is into body worship, but she wants to use harsh nipple clamps. Hes is into humiliation, so is she, but she also wants to try some sensory deprivation. He's is into bondage, she wants mummification or cbt (with her doming). I cant stop thinking about their reactions to just how kinky I am, and knowing you youd twist it wonderfully! Sorry if this is too specific or a squick, but I couldnt stop thinking

So I wanna yeet this out of Yandere territory and into consensual, but maybe not safe or sane.

I’m thinking Bokuto.

Big, dumb Bokubabe.

And hooooooolsy crap what I cannot stop thotting about is cbt!!

(What to expect - NSFW, CBT obvs lol, consensual, ruined orgasms, hand jobs, orgasm denial, Bokuto being a trooper)

Just imagine tying Bo into a chair, wrists pulled back behind the back of the chair, legs spread and tied to each leg. Tight enough to cut into his skin if he moves too much, but he doesn’t mind, it just adds to the sensory experience.

His range of motion is limited to only being able to hunch forward slightly, which he does often, babbling with tears in his eyes as you edge him over and over, a ribbed, lubed sleeve wrapped tight around his cock.

Bokuto can’t close his legs, no matter how much they ache, no matter how much he twitches and whines and bucks his hips. Your grip on the sleeve is unrelenting, stroking him with it slowly, steadily.

The head of his cock is practically purple, shiny with lube, dribbling out sticky precum. You can feel it throbbing in your hold, pulsing and throbbing when he gets too close.

It’s easy to know when to remove your hand - Bokuto’s hips buck forward slightly, his cock spasms, and you can see his abs clench and tighten. He usually takes to throwing his head back, biting his lips as he cuts to stop the litany of loud, manly moans from spilling out.

But he’s trying to be sneaky now, trying to cum. He’s desperate, on the verge of tears, begging you so sweetly.

“Baby, baby please. Please lemme cum, I’ve been good! Lemme cum, wanna cum, please? I’ll-mmmhhmm ohhh-” He can’t finish his sentence, you leaning forward to pop the top of his dick into your mouth, immediately hollowing out your cheeks and sucking.

“Fuck, fuck! Gonna cum, yes, yes!” But then you pull back, withdrawing all stimulation and Bokuto cries out, hips rutting against thin air, a pathetic dribble of precum spurting from the tip. “Baby noo-oo! Please, oh god, I’m gonna die baby, you gotta lemme cum. I’ll do anything! I’ll eat you out, suck your tits, I’ll make you squirt, I’ll-I’ll....”

It was hard for the man to think straight, the constant tease of stimulation, the buildup of an orgasm, then the immediate withdrawal made his head spin, his tongue feel thick and heavy in his mouth, his eyes wet, chest tight.

“Babyyy!” He whined when you pulled the sleeve off his cock, giving the tip a cute little kiss, letting the lube and precum wet your lips as you giggled at Bokuto’s twitching cock.

“Bokie, you gotta be patient. If you cum without permission, I’ll lock you in a cage for the rest of the week, got it?”

The man whined again, jiggling his leg up and down in frustration at the threat. What he was going through was torture, but being locked in a cage? that was hell.

“’M’kay baby, ‘m sorry, just wanna cum really bad, so so bad.” He mumbled.

You ignored him, reaching to your side to pick up the vibrator you had pulled out earlier, watching Bokuto’s face as you switched it on. At the sound of the whirring, Bokuto’s head snapped forward, eyes wide as he took in the toy in your hand.

“No, no baby no, I won’t be able to last, we gotta slow down. I’ll cum, I’ll cu-hnnNNH!” His sentence trailed off into a choked sob as you pressed the tip of the vibrator to his fat balls, letting it rest there before slowly massaging over the fleshy spheres.

“Don’t cum Bokie.” You warned, watching his body closely so you could pull the vibe away the second his stomach started tensing.

He was shaking now, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clamped hard around his lip, so hard that a bit of blood was smeared onto them.

When he gasped out a breath, begging incoherently for permission, you shook your head, removing the vibe, watching the muscular man struggle against his binds fruitlessly, tortured cock bobbing in the air.

You repeated the process a few more times, letting Bokuto lose his mind, become a babbling mess as you slowly upped the vibrations, moving the toy from his balls, to the base of his cock, and then further upwards on each subsequent run.

But you never pressed it to the tip - that was his most sensitive spot, and you were familiar with his limits - if you pressed it there, he’d cum immediately, and you wanted to play a bit longer.

The vibe got switched off, tied to the side, and your husband let out a sigh of relief, although his muscles never ceased shaking, his body keyed up, nerves frayed.

“Alright, I’m going to let you cum now, okay? Don’t hold back.” You smiled up at him, hands coming to wrap around the base of his cock, loosely jerking him off as you watched his face.

“Ohhh, ohhh thank you, thank you baby, thank-than’ you.” He babbled, trying to shove his dick between your hands faster, encouraging you to tighten your fist.

With a nod, you took him in your mouth, sucking hard and fast right off the bat, determined to make him cum after denying him for so long.

It didn’t take more than a minute.

“Fuck, gonna cum! Yes! Yes! Feels so good baby ‘m gonna cum down your throat-”

But as you felt his balls tighten, throbbing as they pumped his release up into his dick, you pulled off his length with a laugh.

Bokuto writhed in the chair as his orgasm was ruined, the buildup so delicious but the reward so unpleasant. HIs hips worked furiously, cock slapping against his own stomach as he struggled through the ruined orgasm, the smallest amount of cum spraying from his dick.

“Ah! n-nooo!”

“Shhh, It’s okay Bokuto.” You reassured him, creeping closer to lay a hand against his cheek. Both of you loved getting him worked up like this, seeing him fall apart under your care. Bokuto knew the waiting was worth it, and that no matter how his cock cried for release, you’d make it up to him in a bit.

“Just a few more times, then I’ll let you really cum, okay?”

“Mm, Mmmhm, okay.” He nodded, eyes glassy as you took his cock in your hands again, fist tighter this time.

“I’ll untie you, yeah? That’ll feel nice. And then you can have me however you want, and you can cum however many times feels good.”

The promise had his mouth watering, fists clenching in their binds as he visualized grabbing you, fucking into you so hard that you couldn’t take a breath, could only gasp and clutch at his shoulders.

“You can push me against the wall... onto the floor, make me ride you..... I’ll do whatever you want Bokie, and you’ll feel so nice.” Your fist was squelching as you pumped his cock, feeling his balls draw up again, the man entirely gone with the picture you were painting with your words.

Your hands dropped his cock, and they went to stroking his chest, leaving him with another ruined orgasm that made the man whine and cry out in anger, frustration, completely overwhelmed.

“But not yet, I still wanna play with you some more.”

#bokuto #Bokuto koutaro #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#imagine #imagines #Bokuto x reader #Bokuto smut #lol #lemon #haikyuu lemon

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kittenwhiskers · 3 years ago

Text

Smartass - Peko x gn!Reader x Fuyuhiko

Peko and (y/n) have been spending the past few days pestering their yakuza boyfriend. Though they were fully expecting consequences, they would never have predicted the results!

A/N: Yes, this is a "no one dies" AU. Because we like it better that way.

!This is a poly gender-neutral reader-insert tickle fic that contains a bit of swearing!

It had been a rather chaotic morning on the island on this particular day. The majority of the class had decided today would be a beach day, and so, the morning was spent by (y/n) and most of their classmates on the golden sand. The early hours saw sandcastle competitions, water fights, and much more. By the time the afternoon rolled around, much of the class had dispersed. A few stayed behind at the beach, while most went to their cottages to rest before returning. There were only a handful of students that actually showed up to the restaurant, that being (y/n), Akane, Chiaki, Byakuya, and Teruteru. Everyone could tell the little chef was worn out from that morning’s activities, but he still insisted on preparing food for the handful present. No one was about to fight with him on that one.

(y/n) had been engrossed in some conversation they were having with Chiaki in between bites of food, when they felt a gentle hand lay on their shoulder.

“(y/n), are you almost finished with your meal?”

(y/n) turned around to see a pair of sharp red eyes staring back at them.

“Yeah, Peko, I guess I’m pretty much done,” (y/n) said with a smile, placing their eating utensil down on their plate, “why, what’s up?”

“Fuyuhiko-sama has requested us at his cottage right away,” she explained very matter-of-factly, though (y/n) could sense a tinge of dread behind her words.

The request confused (y/n) at first… until they remembered. They were filled with the same dread as they remembered all the pestering they and Peko had subjected the yakuza to over the past couple days. The three of them all understood it was all in good fun, but pestering was called “pestering” for a reason. (y/n) and Peko both knew this was coming, it was inevitable.

With a sharp inhale, (y/n) rose from their seat and nodded.

“Right then,” they said, pushing their seat back into place, “let’s go meet him, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Peko nodded without a word, and headed for the stairs leading to the lobby, expecting (y/n) to follow behind, however, they were stopped by Chiaki clearing her throat. They turned to the gamer girl, who proceeded to mouth the words ��good luck”, and gave them a subtle thumbs-up. (y/n) returned the favor with a half-smile, before turning back and quickly following Peko down the stairs and out the doors of the building.

On the walk to the cottages, (y/n) tried their best to prepare themselves for a fight of some sort. They knew Fuyuhiko wasn’t going to actually hurt either of them, but whatever he had planned in retaliation was probably going to be intense. Peko already knew she was going to accept whatever was coming her way, she would never fight back against Fuyu… but she also knew (y/n) well enough to know that they wouldn’t go down without a fight, and she wouldn’t hold them back from that either.

It only took a few minutes before the two students had arrived, and were now standing outside of the short-tempered blonde’s cottage. They both stood tensely, looking at the wooden door, then at each other.

“So, are you gonna do it, or am I,” (y/n) asked Peko softly, referring to which of the two would knock on the door.

Peko seemed to grunt nervously, looking back between the door and (y/n). There was a moment of silence between the two of them, before Peko’s eyes finally stopped on (y/n) again.

“I don’t wanna do it,” (y/n) finally said with a laugh, which in turn caused Peko to laugh as well. If there was one thing (y/n) could be counted on, it was lightening a tense situation.

Peko finally stepped up and knocked on the door. As she stepped back next to (y/n), footsteps were heard inside the cottage. The two practically winced as the door finally swung open, revealing the smug-faced yakuza standing on the other side.

“Thought you two had pussied out or somethin’,” he said with a grin, motioning for them to get their asses inside, “what took so long?”

“My apologies, young master,” Peko apologized as she walked inside, “I had to retrieve (y/n) from the-”

“Hey!” Fuyuhiko snapped, cutting her off, “what’d we talk about? No more calling me that.”

“M-my apologies, Fuyuhiko-sama,” Peko corrected, nodding in understanding, “it’s a force of habit.”

Fuyuhiko grunted softly, shutting the door behind him once the two students were inside. He then turned back to them, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smirking a little.

“Well, I’m sure you two know why I called you here,” he said rather casually.

“Mm, beats me,” (y/n) said, waving their hands around their sides, “I got no clue!”

Peko had to fight back the urge to smile at her partner’s sarcasm as Fuyuhiko shot them a deadpan glare.

“Really?” he asked flatly, “no clue whatsoever?”

“Nope,” (y/n) continued, “but it must’ve been bad to make you drag us all the way out here! God, we must be awful!”

Fuyuhiko sighed, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“I shoulda’ seen this coming,” he growled. (y/n) didn’t know when too far was too far.

Peko was now giggling up a storm at (y/n)’s remarks, and (y/n) couldn’t hold back their own cheeky grin as they continued to tease the Yakuza.

“Or, maybe, we’re totally innocent, and you just wanted an excuse to get time with us to yourself-”

(y/n) was cut off by the wind practically being knocked out of them as Fuyuhiko tackled both them and Peko to the bed behind them, pushing them down on their backs and hovering over them.

“You think you’re real fuckin’ funny, huh, smartass?” he growled, pulling the two students close together on the mattress, “if you’re really as dumb as you’re acting, then lemme spell it out for ya. I brought you both here to show you why you don’t fuck with a yakuza…”

With wide eyes, (y/n) tried to make a break for it, wiggling to get up off the bed. Unfortunately for them, Fuyuhiko had faster reflexes than they could’ve anticipated. He grabbed them by the shoulder, pushing them down into the bed and keeping them pinned in place as he crawled up onto the foot of the bed, sitting up on his knees, and using his legs to pin Peko’s left thigh and (y/n)’s right thigh together, effectively trapping both the students in place at once.

“It took me a while to think of just the right punishment for you two,” he said, leaning over the two ultimates beneath him with a sadistic grin, “but I think I have something perfect planned out here…”

Faster than they could blink, Fuyuhiko’s hands shot down to (y/n’s) and Peko’s sides, squeezing with a purpose, causing both the students to break out in frantic giggles, and attempt to either wiggle out of Fuyu’s restraint, or swat his hand away. Perfect, Fuyuhiko thought, everything was falling into place.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,” Kuzuryu sneered, working his way up to Peko’s ribs with one hand while the other shot up to (y/n)’s armpit, “don’t waste your energy on trying to get away~!”

Peko only managed to cover her face with her hands, somewhat muffling her laughter as she arched into Fuyuhiko’s touch, meanwhile, (y/n) pinned their arms to their sides (which only trapped Fuyuhiko’ hand in place) and squealed loudly. This earned an amused laugh from the yakuza, who drilled his fingers further into their underarm.

“Jeeze, (y/n),” Fuyu chuckled, “You might be even more sensitive to Peko, listen to you!”

“SHUHUHUT AHAHAHAP!” (y/n) cried, twisting to pry Fuyuhuko’s hand away from the sensitive area. Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes at this.

“Shut up, huh? Shut up, huh???” Fuyuhiko growled, lowering his hand just enough to drill his fingers into the top of (y/n)’s ribs, forcing their laughter up an octave, “you think you’re in any position to tell me to shut up, huh???”

“NOHOHO NOO, I’M SAHAHARRYYY!!!” (y/n) squealed, only earning a small chuckle from Fuyuhiko in response. He seemed like he was about to say something, before he was cut off by Peko’s pleas.

“Young master, plehehease!” The swordswoman cried through her hands, “n-nohoho mohohohore!”

“What did I say about callin’ me that, Peko?” Fuyuhiko warned in a low tone, moving his hands up to gently tickle Peko’s neck.

“NAH! F-FUYUHIKO-SAHAHAMA, NOHOHOT THERE!” Peko squealed, craning her neck to avoid Fuyu’s merciless fingers.

Fuyuhiko continued to tickle the two students like this for another minute or so, before pulling back and allowing them to breathe. He smirked at the mess of giggles on the bed beneath him, nearly satisfied with his work, before cracking his knuckles in preparation for his next move.

“Now, I got one more thing I wanna try here,” he said almost excitedly, “but since I ain’t got any straws to draw, it’s gonna come down to this, whoever laughs first, gets it first.”

“Fuyu, nohoho,” (y/n) whined pathetically through their giggles, “I cahahan’t take much more of this!”

“Aww, is that so?” Fuyuhiko cooed mockingly, bringing his hands down over each of their bellies, spidering at them through their shirts, “then it’d do you well to keep your mouth shut, huh?”

Almost simultaneously, Peko and (y/n) slapped their hands over their mouths to fight back the giggles threatening to bubble up from their throats.

“Nah-ah, hands away from your faces, that’s cheating,” Fuyuhiko scolded, “if you don’t follow the rules, I’ll just pick randomly!”

Upon hearing this, both the ultimates hesitantly pulled their hands away from their mouths. Peko raised her arms above her head obediently, while (y/n) reached down and gripped at the bedsheets. Both of the yakuza’s victims strained and whimpered to hold back their giggles as Fuyuhiko’s hands freely explored their tummies. This only lasted about 30 seconds before (y/n) thought they’d break… but relief washed over them when they heard Peko titter with giggles.

“N-nohoho, Fuyuhiko-sama, I’m sohohorry,” Peko begged as Fuyuhiko grinned down at her, “plehehease dohohon’t!”

Fuyuhiko only shook his head at her, still wearing his menacing grin as he reached over and pulled Peko’s shirt up enough to show her tummy, before firmly taking each of her wrists in one hand, and leaning down to pepper her belly with kisses! (y/n)’s eyes went wide at the sight before them as Peko squealed with high pitched laughter and giggles, wiggling every which way to avoid the ticklish sensation. (y/n) turned their head to the side and looked away, not being able to handle the anticipation of knowing they were next. It didn’t help much, though. They could only listen as Peko’s laughter grew louder and more frantic with each passing second, indicating that Fuyuhiko was doing more than just planting little kisses now. Still, they couldn’t bring themselves to look!

(y/n) practically jumped out of their skin when they heard Fuyuhiko deal a raspberry against Peko’s skin, followed by Peko’s squealy laughter hitting an all-time high!

(y/n) couldn’t help but try to wiggle their way off the bed, but was only met by a warning squeeze to the side by Fuyuhiko’s hand, causing them to yelp and recoil.

It wasn’t long before Peko’s hysterical laughter was reduced to a feeble wheeze, at which point, Fuyuhiko finally released his restraint on Peko, allowing her to curl over onto her side.

“You’re up, (y/n)~” Fuyuhiko taunted, straddling both of (y/n’s) thighs, and reaching for their shirt to pull it up. He was stopped by (y/n’s) hands grabbing his own, but the yakuza only chuckled and began to wrestle their hands away. He looked over at Peko, who had now sat up and wiped the tears away from her eyes, and smirked.

“Hey, Peko, babe,” he said, “come help me get this little brat under control, will ya?”

Peko looked down at (y/n) reluctantly, who looked back at her with a pleading look in their eyes as they continued to fight Fuyuhiko off.

“I could always tickle you again,” he hummed with a shrug. This caused Peko to jump, and crawl over behind (y/n), grabbing their hands and pinning them above their head.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed down to her partner. Though (y/n) felt completely and utterly betrayed, they understood. It was clear now that Fuyuhiko was a ruthless tickler… and unfortunately, they were about to face his finale.

Fuyuhiko smiled wickedly as he rolled up (y/n)’s shirt, and leaned down to their tummy, planting light, ticklish kisses across every inch of it, making (y/n) throw their head back with laughter and drum their heels against the bed frame. They had no idea kisses alone could tickle so much! Little did they know, it’d only get worse from there…

Their laughter rose to frantic squealing as Fuyuhiko focused most of the kisses around their navel, and used his thumbs to pinch and massage the sides of their tummy.

“FUYU I CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IT!” (y/n) cried, fighting as hard as they could to fight out of both their boyfriend’s and girlfriend’s restraint, “PLEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!!!”

Fuyuhiko only scoffed a little as he pulled his face away to look at (y/n), his thumbs still drilling into their sides.

“You can handle it,” he sneered, “a little tickling’s never killed anyone.”

(y/n) froze and tensed up as they heard Fuyuhiko begin to inhale, but before they had time to react, the yakuza had already buried his lips into their flesh, blowing raspberry after raspberry into every inch of their tummy, driving them up the wall! Poor (y/n) shrieked and howled with laughter, making the other two swear the others could’ve heard them all the way from the beach!

Fuyuhiko smiled through all the raspberries he delivered as he spidered his fingers up and down (y/n)’s bare sides, before focusing the last few raspberries directly on top of their incredibly sensitive bellybutton.

This seemed to throw (y/n) over the edge, as their laughter quickly turned into silent wheezes. With a final amused chuckle, Fuyuhiko sat up and patted (y/n)’s tummy, rolling their shirt back down and scooping them up, allowing them to lean against him as they recovered from the tickle-attack. As the yakuza stroked their hair, he patted the bed to his left side, inviting Peko to snuggle in on his opposite side, to which she complied, allowing Fuyuhiko to wrap his free arm around her.

“You two know I love you, yeah?” he asked with a smile, resting his head against Peko’s shoulder while keeping (y/n) wrapped in his other arm.

Peko chuckled and smiled down at her shorter boyfriend.

“Of course we do, Fuyuhiko-sama,” she replied. Even though Fuyuhiko acted all big and tough, he still needed reassurance from time to time. Peko and (y/n) were more than okay with that.

“Wehehe’re still getting you back for this, though,” (y/n) giggled weakly.

“Oh, most definitely,” Peko agreed.

“H-hey, that’s not how this works,” Fuyuhiko argued, “This whole thing was supposed to be getting us even!”

Kuzuryu would never catch a break with these two, he should’ve known that by now...

#tickling #tickle #tickle fic #reader insert #gender neutral y/n #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #peko pekoyama #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #goodbye despair #sdr2 #sdr2 peko #sdr2 fuyuhiko #fanfic #ticklish!reader #lee!reader #lee!peko #ler!fuyuhiko

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?

5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you

Two hours.

Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm. And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this.

Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles.

He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.

The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.

Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”

“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?”

Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food.

“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”

Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them.

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”

A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”

The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.

“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”

“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”

“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”

Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.

“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”

“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”

“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”

In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches.

“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”

“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”

“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”

“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”

“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”

“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”

“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”

“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, “nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”

“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.

“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”

“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes.

“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.

“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”

“Absolutely.”

“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”

“How come?”

“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”

There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”

Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like.

Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.

-------------------------------------

Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell.

It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.

Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.

“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”

Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”

“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”

His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.

“What the fuck man!?”

“I’m so sorry about this!”

“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.

“I can’t, I need the truck.”

“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”

“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.

“It sure feels like it is!”

Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight.

“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.

“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.

“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”

“....fuckin what?”

“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”

“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”

“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.

“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”

“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”

Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists.

Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.

Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief.

“Are you fuckin hard from this?”

There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”

Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”

“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”

More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”

“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.

“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”

Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”

“C-consider it granted.”

The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind.

There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.”

Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks.

“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”

The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps.

“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”

“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”

“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”

Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs.

“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”

“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.

“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes.

“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.

“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does.

As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel.

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”

“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”

Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).

He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest.

“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.

“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”

“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind.

“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”

“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road.

Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”

Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler.

“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”

“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”

“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”

The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..

“You think I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”

“I don’t want to go back to prison.”

“You won’t.”

“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”

“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”

“We?”

Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”

Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”

“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”

“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”

“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”

“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”

Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.

“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #mechanic au #on the run

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mrs-hollandstan · 5 years ago

Text

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [two]

Warnings: more sexual comments, sexual tension, language, talk of home issues, shirtless Tommooooo

Word Count: 5,827

Author's Note: Here's part two. The teaser didn't do so well but people keep adding to the taglist sooooo ???? Either way, I'm writing part 3 which I'm pretty excited for cause I think that's gonna introduce like a relationship thingy. Lemme know what you think tho.

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

Saturday seemed to skate by for you and your three new roommates. After Harrison dropped Ivey off, the four of you made a mess of your kitchen making breakfast. Afterwards, you head out into the streets, the clouds teasing you with small slivers of sunlight every few minutes. At the end of your shopping spree, the girls are asking you about your dad and his endless supply of money he provides you, seeing that your bags are full of winter clothes that they would only be able to afford half of, if that. The rest of the day is a blur, just the four of you enjoying each others company and planning out your school schedules.

Sunday comes around in a flash, Ivey is waking you up early in the morning to catch Tom and Harrison's golf match. Handing you a coffee to wake you up once you pull yourself out of bed, she giggles, watching you drink from it with droopy eyes,

"If you and Tom become a thing, I'll be interested to see how you make it to games to support him." She says. You hum, climbing into the cold passenger seat of her car, cradling the steaming cup of coffee close to you for warmth as she turns the vehicle on and cranks the heat up. The drive to the local golf course is short and Ivey drives carefully through the fog Seattle is set in. Once she finds a spot and the two of you walk to join the group of people gathered around the competing teams, you and Ivey clapping along, her eyes trained on Harrison and yours trying to avoid staring at the curly haired brunette who wears a different backwards hat, looking delicious in the somewhat tight gray pants and polo he wears, focused on the game before him. In a few, seemingly short hours, the game is finished and your school has won and Harrison is the Medalist for the school's team. Ivey jumps into his arms when they're dismissed, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs in the air as he lifts her from her feet. She squeals,

"You did so good. I'm so proud of you." She praises, his face turning up as he stares down at her. Setting her on her feet, he steps forward to give you a quick, one armed hug, attempting to avoid leaving his stink of sweat on you. Tom approaches, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, unreadable expression etched into his features.

"Ladies... and Y/N." He remarks.

"Oh ha ha." Harrison says, reaching out to playfully punch Tom's arm. The brunette boy's tongue comes out as he laughs before he looks to you,

"Hi. You look dead on your feet." He says, cocking his head. You smile, nodding and pulling the sleeves of a sweater you'd bought the day before down further over your hands,

"I feel dead. I'm never up this early." He chuckles, a breathtaking smile crossing his face,

"Unfortunately for us, it's part of the game. It's like my own little piece of home so... I'll get up this early if I can remember my family." He informs. You nod, muttering a "nice" before you both avert your attention back to Harrison and Ivey, caught up in each other. She's mid laugh when she turns back to the two of you. She looks between you,

"I... am gonna reward the Medalist so you two... go off together. Have fun." She says, waving her hand as if to shoo you. You cock your head pathetically, features softening,

"Seriously?" She raises her own eyebrows,

"If you had a boyfriend, wouldn't you wanna show him how proud you are of him when he's top winner Y/N?" She chastises. You huff, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. Tom reaches out to run his fingers along your arm,

"'S alright darling. We'll go down to Sal's diner, have some breakfast and I'll buy you a new coffee." He says, gesturing to your nearly empty cup of cold coffee. You look up into his soft, genuine eyes. You sigh before nodding, eyes flickering between Ivey and Harrison,

"Fine... but just know I hate you both and we'll see if you ever drag me to anything again." Ivey giggles before taking Harrison's hand,

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see you guys there." She says before dragging him towards a faraway bathroom. You and Tom watch them go, Tom letting out a distant, wanting sigh,

"Can't wait for a girl that gives me congratulatory sex." He says softly, sounding almost disappointed as you both watch Harrison and Ivey hurry off, her hand held in his. You glance up at him after a moment and giggle, his own lips turning up after another heartbeat of your smooth laughter. He lets you wrap an arm around his waist, an arm of his circling your shoulders hesitantly as he leads you towards the parking lot, duffel bag held over his shoulder in the other hand. He's sweaty despite the cold and you both know it and despite you not seeming to mind, Tom does, not wanting you to smell for the rest of the day assuming you don't change out of your clothes.

"I don't know much about golf, but you did good Tom. Great form." You break him from his thoughts. He snorts, rolling his eyes as he releases you to rummage through his bag to find his car keys, clicking the unlock button to a silver 1998 4runner. The stereotypical douchebag car.

"I can tell you don't know shit. Every time I caught a glimpse of you during the match you looked fucking lost. And I didn't have good form, I was one of the lowest scoring players for this game."

"And? You still did good. Better than most of us I bet. I'm not that stupid, I know you contributed to the team winning. That makes you good." You elaborate before walking around and climbing into the passenger seat, waiting for Tom to join you. You turn, watching him rummage through a gym bag in his backseat before he climbs into the driver's side, starting the car to crank the heater up and strip from his somewhat sweaty polo, trading it in for a more comfortable looking, skin tight, army green colored, long sleeved shirt. Your eyes wander the skin of his chest and stomach, watching the muscles beneath ripple with each movement. When he breathes, the muscles in his abdomen constrict and relax, defining his tantalizing body even further. His pecs are thoroughly defined and his biceps flex with each movement of them. You're obsessed with how he looks, having only seen what his clothes allow you, but now that he's shirtless in front of you, it's sexy as hell. His face isn't the only thing that's beautiful, a pang of want coursing through your body.

You lick your lips, drawing your eyes away once he pulls the shirt over his head, ruffling the soft curls and pulling his cap back on his head, backwards again. He catches you at the last second, chuckling to himself as he finds comfort in his fresh clothes and the heat coursing through his car,

"I don't know whether to be flattered or scared seeing your eyes glossed over like that." He mutters, tossing his polo over his shoulder and clicking his seatbelt around his slender figure. You swallow, glancing up to watch the ice crystals collected on the windshield melt away. Clearing your throat, you blink a few times, trying to erase the distracting images of his body from your mind, but it doesn't seem to work and you're not entirely sure you want it to.

"I mean… it's kinda flattering seeing you look at me like a fine piece of dessert, but damn it's kinda scary." He continues, further breaking you from your thoughts.

"Sorry." You finally mutter. He hums, glancing in his rearview mirror,

"You don't have to be sorry. I was starin at you Friday, you can stare at me now. We can like what we see love, it's just what we choose to do with it that matters." He says matter of factly, twisting a few times in his seat to check around you before safely backing out of his parking spot and pulling out into the parking lot and onto the mist and drizzle covered streets of Seattle. The heat doesn't help the flood of embarrassment and want that you have in your body. He clicks the heater down when you push your sleeves up your forearms, clearing your throat as he drives. He chuckles,

"We could always take the party to the backseat if you’re that hot and bothered by the show. I'm the master of making it like a little domain." He says. You scoff,

"I'm sure you are. Then you'd score and you'd drop me-"

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't have to. I've already been told you're a one night stand type of guy so why would I waste my time trying to get through to you when the second I sleep with you, you'll just... move on?" You rant, trailing off at the end. Silence permeates between you somewhat awkwardly, but Tom's eyes find your figure every few seconds. He licks his lips, bringing his knee not focused on the gas and brake, up closer to his body. He sighs, running his hand up to the top of the steering wheel, drumming his thumb along it,

"It was a joke. I was joking but uhm... I'm... starting to think that you and I won't be friends. There's too much of a connection. Sure, we want different things from each other, but we both want something from the other. I want sex and you want... a relationship. And I have to be honest, I don't know if you really want that." He admits. You look to him, watching his jaw clench for a moment, eyes fixed on the road before him before you speak up,

"So you don't wanna be friends?" You say quietly, almost inaudibly. He glances over, eyes locked in yours for a moment before he reaches across the center console to place his hand over your thigh, rubbing soothingly as the corners of his lips turn up and he looks back out at the road,

"Definitely not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that you and I have this... connection. I know you feel it cause I do too and I'm dumb as fuck. The only thing I'm good at is fucking. Dating me wouldn't do much for you cause I'm... I'm complicated. I'm fucked up and I'll just break your heart. So like you said, why put yourself through that?" He presents to you, hand resuming its position at the base of the steering wheel, arm rested on his leg. The way he avoids your eyes the rest of the drive tells you it hurts him to say something about himself like that. But he's been hurt before and you can tell. He doesn't want to open himself up again and have his own heart broken.

He pulls into the small dirt lot the diner sits in, parking as close to the building as he can. You mutually climb from the car and walk up the steel steps. You thank Tom as he opens the door for you, walking inside the warm building and smiling at a waitress who greets you both. She leads you to a booth in a corner of the restaurant, letting you sit across from each other before setting menus before you and asking if you'd like to place a drink order. Tom orders coffee for the both of you, watching her walk away before he averts his attention to the menu before him. When you both have thoroughly looked it over, he clasps his hands together on the table, a crooked smirk rising to his lips,

"We can still learn about each other. You said you were from California, what part?" He asks. You smile softly, relaxing back against the booth at your back,

"Beverly Hills." He nods, face turning up, impressed,

"Nice. Real pretty there, minus the... snobby, rich assholes that think they're entitled cause they spent too much on a house and car. What's your family life like?" He poses. You shrug, smile etched into your face,

"Fucked. Like everyone else's." You reply, letting him let out a chuckle before you reach up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"I lived in Beverly Hills so obviously we had money as you so nicely put it. My dad was this... successful CEO for the malls in the area. My mom never worked really. Not from what I remember. She was always home for me and my brother Cole, packing lunches, driving us to school, that kinda stuff." You pause, your eyes looking around the diner, but your mind wanders to the fading images of what your mom used to look like. When she was happy, healthy. Tom cocks his head, watching you,

"You love your mum." He poses unknowingly. You nod,

"Yeah, I did." You reply softly, feeling the pressure of your tears behind your eyes. You cross your arms on the table almost defensively as Tom frowns, waiting for you to continue. Tears collect in your eyes as you think about it,

"She died almost five years ago." Tom's eyes widen and he struggles to pull a napkin from the dispenser against the wall,

"Shit, I am so sorry." You shake your head, taking it from him,

"Don't be. I don't talk about her often is all." You say. He nods, watching you dab at your eyes before you sigh,

"My dad had a new girlfriend before her funeral even rolled around. So... it just caused a rift between him and my brother cause we just kinda figured maybe she wasn't something he picked up after our mom had died. We came to the conclusion he wasn't around a lot because he had this new girlfriend and maybe mom knew about, who knows? But either way, Cole moved up here once he graduated and my dad decided when I graduated, he was headed to New York for a bigger business investment. I would've gone if he didn't make it seem like I was holding him back while I was still in high school. He just seemed antsy to get the hell out of dodge and I just... I don’t want to feel like an obligation. I think he wanted a fresh start and I wasn’t going to feel like the burden when it came to that. So it was either him and his new little girlfriend that honestly isn't much older than me, or here with Cole. Guess I like Cole and the idea of actually being wanted better. And he was alone until I got here so... I like being around him." You elaborate with a shrug, glancing up every so often to see Tom nod. He smiles, nodding to himself. He looks down at his arm,

"Damn... I thought my dad was irritating." He says. You smile, shrugging to yourself,

"It happens. The fight my dad and Cole got in was viscous. I thought one of them was gonna kill the other and then my dad told Cole to get out and Cole left and I was terrified I'd never see him again. I was the only one invited to his graduation. My dad was pissed." You elaborate further with a giggle. Tom smiles, glancing up and leaning back when the waitress brings two cups of steaming coffee and a bowl of creamer. She asks for a food order, Tom watching you as you do so and ordering himself, smiling as she turns to walk away. He finds the sugar he likes in the tray at the end of the table, stirring it in before adding a creamer,

"What about you?" You pose to break the silence between you again. He glances up, eyebrows furrowing before you gesture out to him,

"Your life, your family. Why are you here? I mean... I've been to London and its gorgeous. Why didn't you stay, or hell... go to New York? That's beautiful too." He shrugs, nose crinkling almost in disgust,

"New York isn't for me. Too uppity and cramped. And there's only so long you can stay in your hometown before you're sick of it. By the time I was ready for college, I wanted the fuck out and the states were always the plan. Seattle is pretty close to that cold London weather I knew I'd miss so... it was kind of a no brainer." He says with a shrug, fingertips gently strumming along the ceramic mug set before him as he speaks, glancing out the window beside him. Looking back to you, he sighs, shrugging again,

"As for my family, I've got three brothers, both parents and a dog." He says. You smile and nod, holding your own mug in both hands,

"Got your whole life together." He chuckles,

"Yeah... sure. My dad sort of vicariously lives through me and is all over the place with his demands. I would've just come up here, played golf and got a degree in... I dunno... theater or something if I had my way but now I'm studying business. Dunno what I'm gonna do with it." He admits. He sighs, crossing his arms and running his hands up his biceps with a faraway look. He shrugs, eyes finding yours,

"My mum would love you though. Very defiant with a little bit of sass. She'd love to keep you around so you can keep me in check." He says. You smile, looking down into the coffee in your hands,

"And your brothers? You said you had three of them, so you're like a... a role model figure. Gotta be perfect for your brothers huh?" You pose. He chuckles, pulling his phone out,

"The fact that you nailed it right on the head is… quite terrifying." He admits before sighing. Flipping through a few things, he turns his phone to show you the party of six, including their dog. You smile, looking through the smiling faces of his family,

"Damn, the whole family's good lookin." You say. He chuckles, turning his phone back to him and zooming in to see the other boys that, now looking at him, he realizes he misses,

"If you meet them, never say that to the other boys. They don't need their egos inflated any more than they already are." He jokes. You snort,

"Oh and you do Tom? I don't think your head can get any bigger." You reply. He clicks his tongue, unamused look crossing his face. He averts his attention back to his phone allowing you the opportunity to look over his face again. He sighs as he finally tucks the device away, glancing up finally when you speak,

"What about Harrison? How'd he end up here?" You ask. He presses his lips in a line, eyebrows set the same way,

"Just decided he wanted the same thing as I did. His home life's about as complicated as yours. He just wants to focus on himself. Then he met Ivey and... I'm convinced if I hadn't liked Seattle and decided to head back to the UK, he'd stay for her. He... fell hard, and fast for her. It seemed to happen overnight and I'm still convinced she's drugging him with some kind of love potion." He jokes. You smile, admiring what you know so far of Harrison and Ivey's relationship,

"They're adorable. They just seem to be so in love and it's perfect. They're a good balance for each other." You tell him. He nods, smiling to himself,

"He's whipped as fuck. Can't keep her off his mind. They always plan their schedules out together to see if they can get some of the same classes. I made the mistake of taking one with them once after they'd been together a few months and... lemme tell you, third wheeling with those two is not fun." He informs, eyebrows raising when he looks to you again. You smile,

"I'm taking a class with her this semester. Should be interesting." He hums,

"Same here. Im takin a class with him. It's cool when it can link up. I just can't be with the both of them. All they do is sit at the back of the class and kiss and if it's a two person project, you've got to wing it with someone else. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's nice to be out there and meeting new people, but shit, the things you have to put up with from the two of them is a nightmare." He elaborates. You giggle, leaning your chin on your hand. His smile widens, eyes lingering on your face a moment longer than they probably should have.

"I think she's the same way though. As far as being whipped goes. She's constantly talking about him, constantly checking her phone to see if he's texted her. I think it's sweet. To be that in love." You tell him, glancing away with a distant look in your eye as you glance past him. His eyes look you over, watching you cock your head,

"Not to be rude or anything but… have you ever actually had a girlfriend or have you only slept around with girls?" You ask as nicely as possible. Tom shrugs,

"No, I've had girlfriends. I just… I get bored easily. I dunno that it helps that the three I've been with fawned over me for the title. I guess I… wow, this is gonna sound really conceited but uhh… I guess I was what you can consider one of the popular boys. Loads of people liked me and the girls sort of lined up, threw themselves at me to get the chance to say they dated me at one point. Guess I just," he shrugs again, "got bored with that whole thing. Now 'm just waiting for the right girl to come along and sort of reverse roles. I'd love to be able to gush about my girlfriend to people. Talk about how perfect and beautiful and smart she is." It makes your heart flutter, how romantic he makes it sound. You're almost jealous you have the chance to not be that girl he wants to gush about. He sighs, eyes finding you again,

"What about you, you don't have a boyfriend or anything? You're a sight AND a little daredevil and someone hasn't scooped you up?" He quizzes. You shrug,

"Not that interested in anyone. All the guys back home are self centered snobby rich kids no one fucking likes." You tell him. He smiles, shrugging,

"As are the girls, no?" Humming and narrowing your eyes, your smile widens as Tom chuckles,

"Touche Thomas." He chuckles,

"What about here? None of the guys here are good enough?" He asks, one of his eyebrows quirking. You tilt your head softly,

"To be fair, I've only been to the party on Friday and a golf match. I've met the same guys two days in a row. Give it time." You reply. He hums,

"None of the guys you've met have piqued your interest?" He questions lowly. He lifts his cup, sipping from it. You search his face, admiring the full cheeks and sharp jawline, soft curls peeking out from beneath the cap he wears, cute, big ears seeming to hold it in place like a bobby pin. His dark eyes cut up to yours, watching the beautiful Y/E/C of your own dart away quickly. He chuckles, setting his cup down,

"Gotta be quicker than that darling. You didn't learn that in the car?" Crossing his arms on the table again, you lean closer, his eyes wandering your face again,

"Are you twenty one questioning it about my love life for your own personal use?"

"I'd love to use you for my own personal use." He quickly jumps. You stare at each other, the tension between the two of you, thick, the longer you both wait for the other to make a move. His eyes cast down to your lips, watching you lick them,

"That's not fair." You mutter, watching his own lips turn up,

"But what are you going to do about it darling?" He poses cockily. He gives a soft chuckle through his nose before he leans in the smallest bit further,

"Is there something you want me to do? Something you need to say or ask me for sweet girl?" He almost teases, eyes wandering your lips. You so desperately want to say it. Lean in the rest of the way and kiss his soft lips. But it's wrong and you know it. You both know it's wrong. There's something so wrong about already going down this road with Tom where you just know he'll use you. But your body involuntarily moves forward and you're so close to him. You both start to close the distance, and Tom's body screams in agony and want and disappointment when he hears that goddamn voice,

"Hey guys." You both propel back as if nothing was happening, Ivey standing beside the table now. You smile up at her,

"Hey." Tom smiles too, glancing up. He softly greets them before Harrison starts to slide into the booth beside him,

"Oh, uhm, here..." he stands, brushing past Harrison and Ivey to stand beside your side of the booth, "I'll sit with Y/N. You two can sit together." There's confused and awkward mutters before the three people around you slide into their respective booths, Harrison wrapping an arm around Ivey as Tom looks at you, hand slipping between your thighs to hold the inside of one of them. You reach up to hold his wrist, giving it a squeeze, the tension scorching the both of you from what was just interrupted. Of course now, after that, you'd love to head off to his car and lay in his backseat and let him show you what he's working with, but somehow, the world intervened and you're taking it as a sign. But you still want him. And he still wants you.

"So... what have you two been up to?" Ivey says in a sigh, relaxing into Harrison's side. The both of them look up as Tom reaches across the table to grab his coffee cup, bringing it to his lips to sip from again,

"Just... intro stuff. Family life, home life, relationships, that kinda stuff." You reply, watching him drink again. When he catches you looking again, there's no cocky statement with it. He let's you, eyes sparkling playfully as he waits for someone else to speak. Harrison hums,

"Look at you two, tryin all this stuff out. I reckon the four of us will be on double dates in no time." He says suavely. Tom clicks his tongue,

"Yeah right mate."

"Seriously. You guys are cute together. I can see it." He reassures. Glancing up at Tom again, he sighs, warm breath fanning over you as he reaches up to throw his arm over the back of the booth at your shoulders as he clears his throat,

"Drop it. What about you guys? How was your... thing?" He asks. Snorting, you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms. Tom's inner elbow is rested just behind your head and you can feel his heat radiate from him. Ivey looks up at Harrison's face and smiles,

"So good." She says. Harrison let's out a light chuckle before Ivey squeals and snuggles into him,

"We definitely almost got caught but-"

"That was her finisher." Harrison says. Ivey gasps, reaching up to swat his arm,

"Was not!"

"Was too." They bicker. You smile, giggling as you watch them and unbeknownst to you, Tom's eyes have wandered. He misses when it was just the two of you. It was easy and fun and he didn't have to hide his playfulness from you. He could say and do what he wanted and get away with it. But now its stalled. He watches you react to the couple across front you, wondering if Harrison's right. He wonders if the two of you could make it work, go out together and be a couple. He wonders himself if you could be the girl he brags about and is proud to be dating. Relationships come and go and you'd both be taking a risk, but he's starting to think it's one he wants to take. You're stunning to him, perfect beyond comparison and the things he feels for you, he's never felt for any other girl that's been in his life. You glance up after a moment, searching his eyes before you uncross your arms, one of your hands wandering to his lap. You give his thigh a squeeze, sighing as if it's comfortable for you to be like this. He glances down at your hand, before his opposite hand reaches out to trace along your fingertips with his own. You let out an inaudible gasp, focusing back on Ivey when she engages you in some conversation, but Tom is so focused on the way you react to him. Its electric and he wants more. His eyes trail up your body to your profile, sighing through his nose at the look of you.

When the waitress returns with your food, asking Ivey and Harrison for an order, you glance up at Tom, your hands moving from each other. Your lashes flutter as you give him a soft smile, and cross one leg over the other, turning back to your breakfast in front of you. Tom steals glances at you throughout breakfast, smiling at all of the little jokes you crack and all the times you reminisce over funny stories relating to whatever you're talking about. By the time the four of you are done and argued over who's paying before the boys insist, splitting the check between you and Tom and Ivey and Harrison, Tom snagging the tray from you and slapping his card down with a wink,

"It was a date babes, I pay for dates." He mutters to you. You roll your eyes before following the rest of your small group out into the parking lot. You and Ivey turn to face the boys, Harrison smiling down at Ivey as she sighs, turning to face you after another moment,

"Well boys, this was fun and all but Y/N and I have to go finish getting our shit together for classes to start tomorrow." She says. You look up as Tom groans,

"You just had to bring up classes starting this week didn't you?" Tom says, head tipping back. Your group laughs, your eyes lingering on Tom for a moment longer. Ivey snuggles herself into Harrison, letting him kiss the top of her head. Tom sighs, rolling his eyes,

"Disgusting. I hate couples." He mutters. You smile, reaching out to lightly punch his stomach,

"So why've you been askin me about my love life Holland?" You tease. He licks his lips,

"So I don't have to worry about some sort of boyfriend beatin the shit out of me after I fuck you." He mumbles somewhat seductively, creeping forward. Reaching out, he runs his fingers along your arm and hand, raising his eyebrows at you. You click your tongue,

"In your dreams Holland." You mutter. He chuckles, pulling back and tucking his hands in his pockets. He looks to Harrison when he sighs,

"Was nice seeing you again Y/N. Thanks for keepin Tommo here occupied." He says, rubbing up Ivey's arm. She smiles as you look to Tom, the two of you smiling,

"Of course. He and I got to know each other a little better. Thanks for paying for my breakfast Tommo." You tease just slightly. Tom nods, holding his arm out, letting you give him a friendly hug,

"You're welcome darling. I appreciate you putting up with me." He says. You smile, laying your head against his shoulder for a moment before you and Ivey both step back, her eyes lingering on Harrison as you look between the boys,

"See you guys later, okay?" Harrison says, leaning in to kiss Ivey before the four of you part ways. You follow Ivey to her car, Tom and Harrison walking side by side. He turns and glances back at you once, Harrison scoffing beside him. Tom's eyes follow the noise to his best friend's face, knowing smile etched into his features. He glances at Tom, shaking his head,

"What?" Tom mumbles. Harrison shakes his head again,

"Ballsiest asshole I know and you can't even ask her out." He tells Tom. Tom clicks his tongue,

"Fuck you. Never said I wanted to ask her out."

"You don't just wanna fuck her either. I see the way you look at her, it's different than any other girl around."

"It's cause she's new."

"No it's not," Harrison squeals, climbing into the passenger seat of Tom's car, turning his body slightly to face Tom when he resumes his place in the driver's seat, "half of the girls you've hooked up with have been new. If it was because she was new, you'd be trying your damnedest to get into her pants before you moved on but you talked to her. You told her about yourself, opened up to her, and when we walked up on you... you were definitely about to kiss her. You don't catch feelings, you fuck with them, and you're definitely catching them." Harrison lectures. Tom rolls his eyes as he pulls out onto the road leading back into the heart of Seattle,

"She's a nice girl. She's cute. All of the girls I fuck with are cute. But she's just like the others. I'm not catching feelings, and just like Delilah Rhodes, I'll do what I have to to charm her pants off... and then I'll break it off." Tom says. Harrison narrows his eyes,

"Sure Holland, sure."

"Seriously." Tom reassures. Harrison watches him, knowing more than anything that his best friend is lying not only to Harrison, but himself. The way he reacts to you is like no other. He's never treated a girl the way he's treated you, been around a girl the way he's around you unless he's trying desperately to fuck her. But as far as he's concerned, it's never been brought up, the idea of sleeping with you. The way Tom looks at you, listens to you, laughs and smiles at you, briefly but meaningfully touches you is like nothing else. Harrison knows more than anyone, by the way his best friend acts, Tom won't be single for much longer. And it won't be a fake, to get into your pants love, but a serious, whole hearted love that you'll both share.

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octopodian · 4 years ago

Text

Unpleasantness and Precedent

Percy looks up, still stiff. “My name is Percy. I am a bio-facsimile, here to-”

“Oh, a clone?”

Percy blinks. “Yeah.” In a more formal voice, “I mean, yes.”

Trexel rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to sound all fancy.”

summary: speculation on who exactly percy was, and trexels exact relationship with him. takes place pre-canon, duh. content warnings: canon-typical parental abuse/neglect and implied character death

Trexel is working on a drawing (of him, and mum, and dad). He’s been drawing it for a few hours now: he makes sure to add all the little details on the uniforms and everything. He hears the door woosh open, roughly when he expected it to, and he quickly puts his crayons aside and rushes to the door, drawing in hand.

“Mom! Dad! I made-”

“Ugh, Trexel, shush.” She winces, pressing a hand to her head.

“Not now, Trexel,” his dad says, frowning.

“But I drew-”

“Trexel,” his dad warns. Trexel bites his lip, finally looking over and noticing a third person who came into the room. They look Trexel’s age, though a bit taller than he is: tawny brown skin and curly hair just barely avoiding falling in their eyes. They glance over at Trexel quickly, and then quickly look back at the floor like they’ve been caught doing something wrong.

Mrs. Giestman waves her hand boredly, pouring herself another drink. "Trexel, this is Percy. He's going to be spending time with you now. Go let him tell you things, and leave your mum alone, okay?"

“But-”

“Trexel,” his dad groans again.

“Fine. C’mon,” Trexel says, waving towards his room.

Percy doesn't move, just stands stiffly in the doorway. Trexel huffs, grabs his hand, pulls him away. Trexel shuts the door and flops down on his bed, and Percy still just stands still looking at the floor.

“Well? Who’re you? Why’re you here?”

Percy looks up, still stiff. “My name is Percy. I am a bio-facsimile, here to-”

“Oh, a clone?”

Percy blinks. “Yeah.” In a more formal voice, “I mean, yes.”

Trexel rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to sound all fancy.”

“Of course I do. I’m programmed to…” Presumably, Percy keeps talking, but Trexel gets distracted. He tears up the drawing he had in his hands, especially making sure his mom and dad get disfigured, dropping the pieces to the floor. Then he points to his crayons.

“D’you like drawing?”

Percy blinks, again, like a cat. “Um. I dunno- don’t know. I was born today. I’m not really… supposed to?”

“It’s fun! C’mon.”

After 10 minutes Trexel doesn’t really finish anything he likes, and he scribbles his page out in thick black, and he looks over at Percy, who appears to be- drawing Trexel.

“...is that me?”

Percy once again starts like he’s been caught doing something wrong. “Um…”

“Lemme see.” Percy sheepishly hands it over. Trexel doesn’t want to admit it, but it looks good. It’s clearly him while he’s drawing: tongue stuck out at an angle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“I didn’t know what else to draw. Sorry.”

“No, I love it!” Percy looks at him with those huge brown eyes, slightly startled, and Trexel blushes slightly. “I mean, it’s alright. Good. It’s… fine. Good.”

“I’m not very good at drawing, sorry.” Percy bites his lip.

Trexel disagrees, but lets it go for now, saying “maybe we can play a game instead?”

That night he falls asleep clutching the paper close to his chest.

☆

Percy always acts so stiff around Trexel’s parents, and Trexel realizes he often acts the same way: quiet, holding still, trying not to attract any attention in case the attention turns into anger. Percy is better at it, though: Trexel keeps blurting things out without thinking or tries to show off impulsively, and it always makes people mad even though he’s just trying to make them happy.

His parents love Percy. He never speaks up, and always quietly sits until excused. They keep muttering things about hoping he rubs off on Trexel, manages to teach him how to behave.

Trexel finds himself wishing he was a little more like Percy. Maybe then they would like him.

☆

“I mean, don’t you get annoyed? I know I do.”

“Well, they do own me, Trexel. I’m not exactly trying to pick a fight with your parents.”

“Yeah, but they’re so…” Trexel does his best impersonation of his dad, puffing out his chest and puckering his lips. “Ah, yes, I am very important and smarter than you. Shut up! Don’t talk to me! Don’t you know who I am?!”

Percy laughs, light like a windchime, but then he freezes, coughs, scooches away from Trexel as fast as possible.

"What? What's wrong? I know I’m not that good at doing his voice, but-”

Percy looks at the door nervously. "Clones aren't supposed to- we aren't supposed to be friends .”

Trexel feels a stab of anger in his gut. "So what, you don't like me?"

"No, I do! It's just, I’m not supposed to laugh with you, or anything. I’m just supposed to be making sure you don’t die! If standards found out- Board, if your parents found out-'

"Well, they don't have to!"

Percy doesn’t look convinced, but nods. “I guess. Sorry, I just… I don’t wanna be recycled. I like spending time with you.”

Trexel shakes his head. “That’ll never happen.”

He sounds more confident than he really is, but Percy’s shy smile makes it worth it.

☆

“I’m going to be the greatest employee Stellar Firma has ever seen! I dunno what I'll do, but I'm gonna be great at it!” Trexel declares. He pauses, staring at his ceiling. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”

Percy looks over from his spot, cross-legged on the floor. “I’m a clone. I’m already doing the job I was made for.”

“Okay, but, you were made to help me. What if I don’t need help later? I mean, I’m almost 12, I’m gonna be a teenager any day now!” Percy shrugs, not looking up, focused on his drawing. Trexel flops over onto his stomach, looking at him. “You should be an artist! Your drawings are good!”

Percy flushes. “They’re okay . I mean, I just draw them for you.”

Trexel pretends not to be flattered. He hasn't told his parents who drew all the pictures plastered over his walls. They never go into his room anyway: it can be his little secret.

“Well, you should do it for other people!”

Percy smiles, half sad, half patient. “I’m a clone, Trexel. I can’t be an artist.”

“Well, that’s dumb!”

A quiet security claxon beeps. They’re intentionally muffled in senior living quarters: it’s a perk of quality genetic lineage.

Percy shrugs. "That's how it is."

“But, if you just had more than my dumb pencils and crayons, you could really-”

“It’s okay, Trexel. I’m just a clone.”

Trexel bites back an argument, and flops back on his bed, crossing his arms. He stays sulking, even when he feels his bed sink as Percy sits down next to him.

“Sorry, Trexel. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Trexel sulks.

“It’s just the rules. I was born to do this, just like you were born to be a citizen employee. We’re both stuck.”

“I guess,” Trexel mutters.

“...Y’know what always cheers me up?”

Trexel sits up. “...Singing a song?”

Percy grins. “Nooot exactly…”

Before Trexel can protest, Percy tackles him against the bed, viciously tickling his ribs and sides.

“Ah! No!” Trexel giggles. He manages to gasp enough breath to wheeze out a “Stop!” through his laughter, and Percy leans back with a wicked grin, finally letting Trexel breath.

“See! Always cheers me up.”

“Oh, let’s see how you like it!”

They both collapse in a pile of giggles.

Trexel decides it doesn't matter what he grows up to be, as long as Percy is there too.

☆

“Percy?”

“Mhm?” Percy is drawing another picture of Trexel - he’s been drawing a lot of them lately.

“You… you said we couldn’t be friends, right?”

Percy frowns. “Trexel, I didn’t mean that. It’s just… my programming. You know I still-”

“Well, what if I don’t want to be friends?” Trexel blurts out, resisting the urge to slap himself after he does so.

Percy’s face falls. “O-oh. I mean… of course. I’m just a clone, I- yeah, that’s-”

“Wait, no!” Trexel yelps. “I mean, uh… what if I wanna, maybe… be… something else?”

Percy’s eyes go wide, deep and brown and-

Trexel hesitates. He'd never really seen this happen, didn't really know what to say or do- and then Percy's crossed the room and his lips are gently pressed to his cheek.

Percy smiles softly, and Trexel beams back.

"I think I'd like that, Trexel."

"Me too!"

They hold hands until his parents come home, and then they pretend to be just a human and a clone, pretending to be the people they were supposed to be.

☆

Of course Trexel would ruin it all. He always ruined everything good in his life. Stupid, pathetic Trexel.

☆

Trexel hadn’t known. He hadn’t known they’d be home so soon, that they’d see them, that they’d-

“No, Dad, it wasn’t what it looks like, please-”

“Talking? With a clone?!”

“Laughing with it? Touching it? Like you’re friends?” His mum looks disgusted. Trexel feels tears stinging at his eyes, but he tries not to cry, tries not to make it any worse.

“You’re a Giestman, Trexel! You can’t be acting like this, it’s not right!”

His mom waves at security, face in her hand like she can’t even bear to look at Trexel. “Take the clone away!”

“You’re going into school tomorrow, Trexel. You need to earn to act normal.”

“This behavior is below the station of a Geistman!”

Percy doesn't say a word, just stands quietly, stiffly, like he always does, like it'll keep him safe even now.

“Percy!” Trexel wails. His dad’s hand is so tight around his arm it's bruising it, and even as Trexel fights he can only watch as Percy gets dragged away. He catches one last glimpse of those big sparkling eyes, and then Percy is gone.

Trexel is locked in a box.

Trexel is sent to school.

Trexel is taught to behave.

And Trexel promises he’ll never love a clone again.

#text #i am op i am reposting to tumblr bc fuck ao3!#stellar firma #sf #trexel giestman #percy the clone #whats trexel percy. its #graph boyfriends #i thiiiink #fic #mine

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years ago

Text

Problem Solver

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 5,668

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Abortion

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Lemme know if you want a sequel to this one, I’d love to explore this concept further!

Tag List: @hotstuffhargrove @moonstruckhargrove @mickmoon @alex--awesome--22 @hawkeyeharrington @songforhema @carolimedanvers @thechickvic @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @spidey-pal @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe

The tile of your bathroom floor was freezing on your bare feet, your fleece pyjama pants around your ankles. It was four in the morning, way too early to be awake on any day, especially not a Saturday. But you needed space to do this. You had to be careful.

The pregnancy test was on the counter, the egg timer ticking down slowly. You had never been more anxious before in your life. You crushed the box tightly in your fist, stolen from the pharmacy; you were too anxious to actually pay for it. You couldn’t let the cashier tell your mother about it or even let her see the receipt.

You needed to not be pregnant. Desperately. You couldn’t be pregnant. You were too young, too scared to be a single mother. It had to be a false alarm.

You felt stupid. You should’ve been careful; you should’ve said something when he didn’t have a condom. You should’ve stopped. But you didn’t.

As the timer got closer and closer to the zero, you grabbed it, forcing it to stop before the trilling ring came out, waking up your whole house.

You took a shaking breath, eyes rolling to the water marked ceiling as your clammy hands reached out for the test, tapping lightly on the counter until you hit the plastic test, pulling it over to you. You eyes fluttered shut as you levelled your head again, crossing your fingers in a silent prayer before opening your eyes.

The pink plus sign was clear as day.

Pregnant.

“Fuck…” you muttered, letting your head drop into your hands. You were so screwed.

All you could do was go back to bed, hiding the test in your dresser, climbing up the heap of blankets, begging the universe to let you sleep and to wake up and for everything to be fine again. But you knew that the universe didn’t work that way; you had to face the problem head on. You let hot, fat tears slip down your face, silent sobs wracking through your gut and chest, your throat tightening into a Gordian knot.

At seven o’clock, you forced yourself out of bed and into clean clothes. You forced yourself to the kitchen and forced a spoon of peanut butter into your mouth, the only thing you thought you could keep down, too upset to eat. You grabbed the yellow phone book off the counter, marked up with sticky notes for important numbers. You carried it to your room, grabbing the canary yellow rotary phone off the hall table, drawing the long cord down the hall and into your room, shutting the door and sitting down in front of it, pressing your back against the pressboard door.

You put the phone by your feet, flipping open the phonebook to the list of medical numbers, scrolling through to find a number for a woman’s health centre. There was a Planned Parenthood in Chicago, a three hour drive away, which felt like a risk, but you called anyway.

You could tell that the receptionist on the other end, who introduced herself as Amy, was trying to be nice to you, but it felt forced and harsh, sympathy training gone wrong. She warned you that you’d need parental consent if you were under eighteen before anything could be performed and it would cost $150.00. You told her that you understood and made the appointment for the next weekend.

You decided not to tell the father, he didn’t need to be involved. In fact, you decided not to tell anyone. You took off work the Saturday of your appointment, but you worked all that week, trying to flush your bank account with enough money to pay for the procedure.

If anyone asked you what happened that school week, you wouldn’t have had an answer. Your mind was on other things, on the drive to Chicago and the appointment itself. You just wanted to be done with that week, but Friday night proved to be the longest one yet.

Sitting at dinner with your parents, you pushed peas around your plate, eyes trailing the clock. “Hey ma? I was wondering if I could have the car tomorrow. I’m supposed to go to the mall in Greenville with Vicki and I thought I’d offer to drive us, since she usually gets Tommy to drive us and that means we have to invite Carol and it’s a whole thing.” You rambled, hoping that the influx of information would confuse your mother enough to give you the answer you wanted just to shut you up.

“Sweetheart, you know that your father and I are going to visit Aunt Shelley in Gary this weekend, we need the car. I’m sorry but you’re just going to have to deal with Tommy and Carol.” Your mother replied, reaching over to cut up your little sister’s chicken, smiling easily, as though she couldn’t feel the walls around you closing in.

“Unless of course you want to come along, I’m sure Aunt Shelley and Uncle Marvin would love to see you.” Your father added, but you weren’t listening, anymore. You pushed your plate away from you, tossing your napkin on the table top.

“May I be excused?” you asked. Your mother opened her mouth to answer you, but you were already turning on your heel and heading out of the dining room and upstairs. You had to be alone again. You needed a new plan.

Alone in your room, you forced your window open, your whole body trembling. Your lungs were on fire, eyes stung with tears. All week you’d been emotional, ready to cry at the drop of a hat, and this little change in the plan was the icing on the cake. You stuck your head out the window, forcing cold evening air into your lungs, trying to catch your breath and lessen the lump in your throat. You needed to calm down; you needed to be rational again.

Looking out at the dark street, streetlights like spotlights over the road, you watched as a car pulled into the driveway adjacent to yours, the only car at the house. You watched as a boy with a careful constructed coif and toned shoulders and arms stepped out, tossing what looked to be keys up and down, his entire body screaming ease and comfort.

Steve Harrington.

You and Steve were sort of friends. Key word sort of. He and you ran in similar circles but you’d never had to be close to get through parties at Tina’s and smoking at Tommy’s. But there were times that you were; first in sixth grade when Macy had convinced you that he was in love with you and you developed a tiny crush on him and then in freshman year when he had an actual crush on you and you had assumed he was just trying to be your friend. Both times had ended in awkward heart break for one party and awkward parties for awhile after until one of you moved on. You got your heart broken when you caught him in the closet at Carol’s making out with Mackenzie Fisher, his first ever girlfriend. And Steve got his broken when he asked you out and you laughed in his face, assuming it to be a joke. Since then, things were a bit tense and awkward, though it lessened when he started dating Nancy Wheeler. You always felt like you were skating on thin ice with him, like any second you could mess up and crash through the ice, even with Nancy around cutting the tension and the power of sticky weed and cheap liquor breaking down the walls of your social hierarchy.

But in that, with your head stuck pathetically out the window, his car was more appealing than even before.

Your fingers flew over the rotary dial, the number still engrained in your mind and fingers. You wondered if his mother was home, his father seemingly always gone on business. But when the phone was picked up on the first ring, you knew he was alone, his mother always took four rings to pick up the phone, not allowing anyone else to pick up the phone out of fear of seeming desperate.

“This is the casa de Harrington, Steve here.” Steve greeted, his tone jovial and relaxed. You could practically see him flopped on the overstuffed brown leather couch in their living room, a hand running through his long tresses.

“Hey Steve it’s…uh it’s Y/N.” you said, curling the yellow coiled cord around your finger.

“Oh hey Y/N, what’s up?”

You sighed “Look, um this is weird but…I was wondering if you could drive me into Chicago tomorrow…I’d do it myself but my parents are driving out to Gary and I have an appointment out there. If you can’t help me it’s totally fine, I get it, it’s a weird request.” You sputtered, closing your eyes tight.

Steve was quiet for a long time, at a loss for words. Your stomach dropped, practically hearing the ice crack under your feet. You backtracked quickly “Look, I’m sorry this was stupid, I shouldn’t have bothered you, sorry.” You went to hang up the receiver, but a voice rang out from the other end.

“Y/N, wait.” Tentatively, you pushed the receiver back to you ear, unsure what to say “I can drive you, it’s not a big deal. Just tell me what time we have to leave.” He said, his soft an octave softer, clearly concerned.

“My appointments at ten o’clock, so we have to be out early. I can chip in for gas or we can drive it in shifts if you want, or I can find my own way back if you need-” he cut you off.

“Y/N. It’s not a big deal, I’ll pick you up at seven thirty, okay? If you wanna help, you can bring me a coffee, okay?” he replied easily. Steve was being too giving, too genuine, and it made your skin crawl, like he was watching you.

But you nodded, you got him to spill how he liked his coffee, you held back your giggles when he admitted just how much cream and sugar he needed to make the stuff drinkable, you said polite goodbyes and you thanked him again. Then you went to bed, not bothering to wish your parents a good night. Your body felt impossibly tired, a week of anxiety crashing through your body and pushing into dreamland.

Your alarm rang out a six o’clock the next morning, pushing your groggy body out of bed and into the shower, finally finding the energy to wash your greasy hair, eyes closed so you wouldn’t look at your stomach, which you swore was getting bigger every time you looked at it. You dressed cautiously, pulling on the thick knit skirt your mother had insisted you’d need for something, wondering to yourself if this was what she meant. You pulled on warm layers and tied your hair into a thick black scrunchie at the top of your head, messy and tangled and wet but away from your neck.

Your parents were still asleep, they wouldn’t leave for Gary till later that morning, giving you plenty of time to get in and get out without question. You tip toed down the stairs, stepping over the well known squeaky step and into the kitchen. You pulled out a paper coffee filter and dropped it into the top of the machine, filling it with grounds and flicking on the power button, the sound of the water boiling filling your senses. You remembered that you couldn’t have caffeine before the procedure, so you pulled out the electric kettle, boiling a separate pot for you as you dug through the various teas your mother bought on various whims, trying to find something without caffeine that wouldn’t taste like absolute crap. You finally decided on just have honey and lemon, pretending that you were sick made the whole trip feel more normal to you.

You pour the hot drinks into two Styrofoam cup, pouring honey and dropping sliced lemon into yours and enough sugar and cream into the other to make nearly white. You kept your eyes on the Harrington house, hoping that Steve remembered his promise to you.

You scrawled a note to your parents on a scrap piece of paper which you pinned to the refrigerator door.

“Mom and dad,

Me and Vicki decided to go for breakfast before driving into Greenville, say hi to Aunt Shelly and Uncle Marvin for me, I’ll call there when I get home. See you on Sunday!

~Y/N”

You heard a horn honk outside the house, your eyes snapped up to see Steve waving at you from his driveway, his eyes sleepy and his smile wide and soft. You waved tentatively back, pulling your purse onto your shoulders, popping plastic lids on the cups and marching towards the door, forcing a bright smile on your face as you crossed the street to meet him.

“You ready to go?” Steve asked, taking the cup from you with nod of thanks.

You nodded “Yeah, let’s do this.” Steve chuckled, popping the passenger seat door open for you, letting you in with a silly sweep of the hand, earning a little giggle from you. It was going to be a long drive.

Despite music playing from Steve’s stereo, the silence in the car was unbearable. You’d run out of things to talk about fairly quickly, Steve avoided the topic of your appointment out of politeness, but as Chicago grew closer, he needed to know where he was going.

And he worried about you. Ever since middle school when he broke your heart, he’d kept his eye on you, trying to ensure that you were happy and secure in your life. At first he felt like it was an obligation, a way of apologizing to you beyond words, but it became second nature to him, watching out for you as though you were one of his own, a prototype to the way he’d come to watch the middle schoolers he’d adopted. He’d punched out your first boyfriend, a squirmy boy named Brian, after he’d told their entire gym class how bad you were in bed. Did he have a good excuse? No, but listening to some kid treat you so terribly behind your back made his blood boil, igniting a fire behind his eyes and tightening his core. Driving you to Chicago felt like another obligation in watching you, making sure that you were still okay. But it bothered him to watch you twitch in the seat next to him.

“So,” he broached the silence with a brave, easy smile, “Where’re we going here?” he asked, the sign signalling Chicago was only five miles away.

You had been tearing the edges of the map in your lap, trying to calm your twitching hands and racing heart. You reached into your bag, pulling out the yellow legal pad you’d written the directions on, scanning the chicken scrawl for a sign of legible instructions.

“We’re looking for North Humberland Court.” You read, eyes locked on the page. You refused to admit where you were actually going, to admit that it would make it real and you refused to believe that it actually was. You weren’t going to a clinic to have an abortion with Steve Harrington.

“Alright…” he muttered, scanning signs for the street you’d named. The fact that you were so quiet made him nervous. Something was wrong, even he could sense it. “So why couldn’t your parents drive you out here? To the doctor I mean.”

“Like I told you, they’re going to visit some family today, they needed the car. I’m old enough to handle this stuff without them anyway…” you replied quickly.

“Why schedule an appointment if they knew they wouldn’t be in town?” he asked. God, sometimes you wondered if Steve Harrington had any sort of deduction skill. In this case, it worked in your favour.

“It was a mistake, they told me to cancel but it was hard to get and I wasn’t gonna wait around for another chance.” You told him, finding a relaxed smile, leaning back in the chair for the first time in the entire drive.

Steve hummed “Right…” he looked at you for just a second, catching the look of anxious fear in your eyes that made his heart lurch and made him drive faster. You looked almost scary-the smile looked so natural, but your eyes were so far from matching, you almost looked like a psychopath.

“They don’t know that you’re out here, do you?” he said, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Your head snapped to look at him, shocked that he’d figured it out, which felt silly in retrospect-Steve wasn’t stupid, he just had no forethought when he spoke, making him seem dumber than he actually was.

You opened your mouth to retort, but you had nothing. Instead, you sighed, looking away. “Look, it’s just one of those things.” You said.

“I need to know where we’re going here, Y/N, like are we actually even going to the doctor at all?” he pressed.

“We are going to the doctor, I didn’t lie about that.” You replied. Steve watched you for a second, looking for more cracks in your façade. But your smile had dropped, your face finally expressing what your eyes had been screaming the whole ride. He nodded, turning down the long street you had requested.

“Just tell me where to turn.” He muttered and you nodded, muttering back “Stay in the left lane…”

North Humberland was a longer street than you’d expected, but halfway down in a small, unassuming building, was the Planned Parenthood. You nodded for Steve to turn, watching him for a sign of something, anything. You wanted to know if he judged you, if he was scared or hurt or disgusted-if everyone saw you the way you saw yourself. But he didn’t look like he felt any of those things, he looked eerily calm and comfortable with this scenario, as though he’d been there before. Maybe he had, you realized in that moment how little you knew about him.

There were a few sparse protestors outside, all in pink shirts with Bristol board signs, declaring that you were a baby killer and that abortion is murder. You hadn’t thought much about what you were doing, it just felt like a chore to you like an annual check up or a teeth cleaning. You hadn’t even realized what was inside you was technically a life to these people, a baby to these hallowed few. Watching them and their signs walk their picket line, their glares and scowls targeting your car as you pulled in. They had their teeth bared and their fists clenched tightly around their signs like weapons.

You looked to Steve, in almost the same way you’d look to your parents as a small child, for guidance and support. He sent you a small smile and nodded towards the front door, waiting for you to make the first move. You let out a sigh, pulling your bag off the floor and popping open the side door, dropping your feet onto the pavement. Steve stuck close to you, his hand pressed into the small of your back, pushing you past the screaming hoard who called you a murderer and a sinner.

The girl who answered your call, Amy, was at the desk, her false smile and terrible phone voice matched her face; she looked like the head cheerleader forced to be nice to everyone. She handed you your paperwork and verified your I.D, both of you knowing that it was fake but neither saying anything. You took a seat in the plastic chair, propping the clipboard on your knee. Steve sat next to you, you hadn’t realized that he had taken your hand while you were handling receptionist Amy until he let you go, and you oddly missed it when he let go.

“I wish you’d told me…” Steve whispered, slouching down in his chair to whisper into your ear, arms crossed over his chest.

You rolled your eyes “What was I supposed to say, Steve? Hey, I know we’re not really friends but I need an abortion, wanna come with? Yeah, I’m sure you’d love that call, totally would’ve gotten me a ride here…” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly over your chest. You felt younger than you actually were, like an angry preteen rather than the girl about the head to college in just a few months.

“Would’ve been better than lying to me...” Steve seemed hurt by your small lie, in a way you didn’t quite understand. You’d done nothing to hurt him; nothing about this situation even truly involved him. It made your blood boil-for once, something wasn’t about him and he had to get his emotions all in it.

“I didn’t lie!” you snapped “I told you I have an appointment in Chicago and I do, it just so happens to be the appointment.”

Steely silence covered you like a blanket. Steve knew you were right, he knew he was in the wrong here. But he couldn’t look at you, it hurt too bad. If he had chosen to stick around, to be genuinely be your friend and not creep around in the shadows of your life. He was sure he could’ve stopped this, he could’ve stopped whatever the hell happened here.

“You don’t have to sit here with me, you know, you can go, like I said I can find my own way back.” You said softly, not bothering to look at him. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

“No, no I’m-I’m not abandoning you in Chicago.” Steve replied “Jesus, Y/N, what kind of person would I be if I just left you here?” it was a rhetorical question, but you thought long about an answer, and not just some snarky comeback, but an actual argument.

You couldn’t think of one. So, instead, you focused on the forms in hand, filling out your health information and signing on the dotted and solid lines. Steve watched you, taking in your little moments of thought and annoyance, the little huffs and the way you chewed on the end of the pen, tapping your fingers on the clipboard in a rapid, uneven pace.

“Y/N?” he asked quietly, his voice almost childlike, like a toddler about to ask his mother an innocent, wide eyed question, tiny hands gripping long skirts.

“What?” you replied, not looking up from the page, trying to remember if you were allergic to any medications, your mother always filling out these forms for you at your family doctor’s office.

“What happened?” he asked, intentionally vague. You both knew what he was asking and the question upset you. Maybe it was just because you were ashamed and embarrassed, but you felt deeply angered by the question.

“Are you trying to ask how I got pregnant? Come on Steve, you know how this shit works.” You replied, chuckling bitterly.

Steve rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning the slightly pink shade. “You know what I mean…” he

“I made a stupid mistake, Steve, it happens. Won’t let it happen again...” You told him, standing up to return the clipboard to bitchy Amy, who smacked her blue bubblegum at you, ushering in the heavily pregnant woman with the green hair and her spiky looking boyfriend.

“Where’s the guy who made the mistake?” Steve asked when you returned. You cocked your eyebrow, urging him to elaborate. “Unless you’re the Virgin Mary, there had to be a guy to help with this problem, where is he? Who is he?”

You smirked “No, no you guessed right. I’m carrying the next saviour and, unlike her, I want out.”

Steve shook his head “Y/N…” he pressed.

You sighed “Look the guy isn’t here because I didn’t tell him, which is for the best seeing as how it was a stupid one night stand and he wouldn’t give a shit about it.” You said, balling your hands into fists, focusing on the white plastic bin of condoms on the front desk, rainbow coloured and screaming ‘You’re sexually active and we want the world to know!’

“What a shit head…” Steve muttered.

You laughed “Yeah, you’d think that...” you brushed a loose strand of hair out of your eyes “You’d probably kill him anyway, or try.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know? I don’t try to fight everyone.” Steve looked you over, leaning his elbow on the arm of the stiff chair, turning his whole body towards you.

You looked him over. He looked far too relaxed to be in a sex clinic, it was both calming and infuriating. “Oh you would...you’re always looking for an excuse to fight with Hargrove...” you grinned, matching his body language, your faces only inches from one another.

Steve’s jaw dropped to the floor and he fell back in his chair, earning a loud laugh from you. He looked so offended, so surprised by the news, like he hadn’t heard every rumour about your indiscretions since freshman year. You stood your ground as Hawkins’s whore of Babylon, leading on the youth of Hawkins to sin as you had, although you didn’t see it as a sin to fool around.

“Oh come on, Stevie, you heard about Lizzie Bishop’s party. Everyone was at that one! I swear even you made a cameo.” You continued, nudging him with your elbow.

“You…you let Billy Hargrove knock you up?” he asked, watching you with wide eyes.

Your good mood dropped away immediately, replaced with annoyance and anger. “I wasn’t trying to get pregnant, Steve, I’ve been on the pill since I was twelve. It just happened. I’m not pretending that it wasn’t stupid.”

“I just…it’s Billy! The guy is a walking advertisement for plan B!” he cried, slapping his knee.

A heavy blush grew up your neck and over your cheeks “Look…you’re right. He’s awful!” you laughed awkwardly, dropping your head into your hands, more embarrassed than amused.

“He’s such a dick!” Steve laughed loudly, but stopped when he looked over at you. You’d finally broken, a small sob wracking through your body. He quickly wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders. “Y/N...Y/N I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

“He’s awful!” you moaned, lifting your head to reveal the tears streaming down your face, your eyes red and shining with tears. “And-and you know what? You wanna know the saddest part?” you stuttered, trying to catch your breath in between words “He’s not even good in bed.”

“What?” Steve asked, reaching over to wipe the tears off your face. The touch should’ve been intimate, it really was, but you were acting so strange; you seemed both deeply upset and a little humoured by the whole scenario.

“He’s a shit lay!” you cried. Steve snorted, he couldn’t help it. You looked so sad but the situation was so comical, he couldn’t hold back the laughter pooling in his stomach. His whole body curled inwards, shaking with suppressed giggles and snorts, his feet kicking in the air.

“I’m serious! He’s absolutely awful in bed!” you said seriously, a small smile coming to your lips, your face warm from the slight embarrassment on the conversation and the raw emotions still swirling around your head. “I don’t know how it’s possible I mean fuck! Brian Frey was better than him in bed and he was a damn virgin! I don’t think I’ve ever been further from an orgasm in my life!”

The whole scene was ridiculous-you and Steve looked like a pair of preteens, giggling over dirty words and sex jokes with an air of secrecy and innocence, hiding the dirty nature of the words like they’d be in trouble if anyone found out. In the context of the clinic, sterile waiting room, they look out of place and wrong, the other woman waiting quietly for her turn watching them with a look of shock and confusion, the joke lost on him.

You heard someone clear their throat and you looked up, wiping away tears with your knuckle. Amy was staring at you with an angry expression, she nodded to the doctor standing at the door, a kind looking woman with salt and pepper hair and pink scrubs. “Lydia Olsten?” she asked, looking up from the clipboard with a polite smile. It took you a second to remember your fake name, but when you caught it you nodded, standing up quickly, slinging your purse over your shoulder. Steve followed suit, wiping his palms on his jeans.

You looked to him quickly, shaking your head. You whispered “I gotta strip down in there, can you just wait out here?”

Steve nodded, deflating slightly “Right…” he murmured. You turned to follow the doctor, lost by the events of the day. It felt so normal for him to want to come in with you, like he was your boyfriend or your protector or something. Maybe it was normal. Either way, you were glad to have him waiting for you, to not be alone in the waiting room when it was done.

The procedure took longer than you expected, but the doctor was kind enough and the anaesthesia was heavy enough to not feel anything. After it was over, you were told to sit in the examination room for thirty minutes before leaving and to not drive yourself home. You assumed that Amy at the front desk parlayed this information to you, because he was allowed into the room soon after the thirty minutes had began.

“What’s up, kiddo? How’re you feeling?” Steve asked, sitting down on the edge of the examination table.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “We’re the same age, weirdo...” you sighed “I’m fine, just tired, I think it’s from the anaesthetic.”

“Right...well, we can head out of here whenever you’re ready. I’ll just be in the waiting room, alright?” he said softly, taking your hand in his and squeezing it softly. You nodded, waving as he left the room again. You took your time getting up and getting dressed again. Your body felt strange and sore and you were dizzy from the painkillers in your system. It took you probably ten minutes to get out of the room, but Steve was still there when you got out of the room. It warmed your heart a little bit, even though you knew he’d still be there. It was nice to have someone still waiting for you. You were used to guys who didn’t stick around.

Steve helped you to the car, wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders, ushering into the passenger seat and rushing out of the parking lot as the protestors continued their brigade of abuse towards the middling groups of girls entering the clinic.

The drive back to Hawkins was more comfortable than the way there. You didn’t feel the urge to keep quiet, it helped that you weren’t in the throes of deep anxiety and sadness. You felt more at ease with your surroundings and more comfortable talking and laughing with Steve, letting the open windows blast cool air through your hair and watching Steve laugh and grin with a certain sense of satisfaction, just because you were making him laugh and smile. It was nice, fun even. Steve was fun to be around, you’d forgotten that.

The drive was too short for your liking; you’d been having too much fun to notice the time pass by. Steve pulled into your cul-de-sac, parking in front of your house. His was just across the street, he could’ve parked in his own driveway, it would’ve been easier for him. Still, you didn’t complain, you popped open the door before Steve could pull the hero chivalry act again.

“Well...thanks for the help, Steve, I really owe you one.” You said with a small sigh, pulling the thick blue cardigan up onto your shoulder again.

“Don’t mention it.” Steve rubbed his arm awkwardly. You gave him a small wave and turned to head towards your house, but Steve grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you back “Wait!”

You turned, flashing him a bemused smile and raised eyebrow. “Listen...this is probably weird, but do you wanna maybe go out sometime?” he asked, looking down at his shoes.

Your smile dropped away and you looked towards the trees behind Steve’s house “I don’t know if I can really stomach dating right now...not after this whole thing...” you gestured towards your stomach quickly, uncomfortable with the saying the words too close to your parent’s house. They weren’t home yet, their car missing from the driveway, but you were still nervous.

Steve nodded, kicking at the pebbles near the curb. You squeezed your eyes shut “It’s not as if I wouldn’t, in any other context I’d say yes, but right now is...”

“Not the best time.” Steve finished, looking up to meet your eye again. He flashed you a lopsided grin “I get it. I’ll just wait for you.”

Your eyes widened slightly “Steve, you have to do that I mean I don’t know when I’m ever going to want to date again, I don’t want you to waste your time...” you said softly, wringing your hands.

Steve shook his head “I’m not worried.” He turned to climb back into his car, turning back to look at you with a smirk “I’m driving you to school tomorrow.”

“But-” you tried but Steve cut you off.

“This isn’t a debate; you’re not walking to school in the cold when I live literally across the street.” Steve chuckled, climbing into the driver’s seat.

You nodded, biting back a small smile “I’ll bring you another coffee then...” you said “See you around...” you turned on your heels heading inside.

You didn’t know what he was trying to do, but you weren’t mad about it.

344 notes · View notes

sweet-steddie · 6 years ago

Text

Home (g.d. & e.d.)

Summary: You’ve gotten a bad grade which means you’re having a bad day. The twins are more than ready to make you feel better. @shawnsababe here it is, almost lol. Hope you enjoy whatever this is!

A/N: Here’s my third Dolan twins imagine and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that everyone is pleased with it! If you’re liking the warm and fuzzy theme of my imagines so far, then this one’ll hopefully be right up your alley lol. Please reblog and leave feedback and maybe even drop a request or two off for me ;) Here goes!

2.6k+

The lecture is almost over, thank heavens. The professor has just informed us all that our most recent test scores have been posted online, at which point 97 percent of the class pulled out their laptops to check their grades, effectively checking out of the lecture. I’ve just selected the “Grades” tab on my school website and am anxiously waiting for the test results to appear.

When the page finishes loading, I give pause. Major pause. Because the grade is not good. Scratch that; the grade is fucking horrendous. I bite my lower lip and my vision immediately goes blurry with unshed tears. Not here. I will not cry here. And I mentally recite this mantra over and over until everyone around me begins to rise to their feet and file out of the classroom.

I must zone out for a considerable amount of time because when I come to, I see unfamiliar faces and an unfamiliar professor entering the room and preparing for the class that’s scheduled to begin next. I make quick work of sticking my earbuds in and packing up my bag before I all but scamper from the room. I speed-walk into the nearest restroom and am momentarily pleased to find it empty before I occupy the first stall and lock the door, sinking down onto the toilet seat just as my tears begin to fall. I take a few shuddering breaths and my shoulders shake pathetically with hushed hiccups and cries.

I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. And then I take another deep breath before gathering a wad of toilet paper to messily wipe at my tear stricken cheeks. I dispose of the tissue and dig my phone out of my pocket, waking up the screen to find it stacked with notifications. When my phone is unlocked, I thumb into my messages and am quickly reminded that I made plans for the day and fuck, if socializing isn’t the last thing I wanna do right now. I hate the idea of bringing the weight of my crushing self-pity to a gathering; it feels unbearably selfish.

I tap into the group message that I have with Grayson and Ethan. Through my puffy eyelids, I scan over the most recent texts. Something about if we should order takeout tonight. I sigh heavily through my nose as I type out Guys, I’m gonna have to take a rain check today. It’s just that I’m the dumbest bitch on earth and I’m never getting out of college. Hope you understand! and then I send it and thumb into my music app to put my library on shuffle. I’m only able to blow my nose and stand up from the toilet before I get an incoming FaceTime call.

It looks like Grayson’s calling and I haven’t looked in the mirror since I left class, but I’m almost positive that I look absolutely miserable. Unfortunately, there’s no time to fix that now. I sigh as I sit back down and accept the call, attempting to paint a smile onto my face to lessen the blow of my swollen eyelids and shiny nose. When the call connects, both Ethan and Grayson are staring me down through the phone, each with expressions of utter sympathy. None of us say anything and I allow my fake smile to slip as I fight back a second wave of tears.

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow as he watches me begin to break down. “Don’t cry,” he mutters softly, eyes softening at my vulnerable appearance.

“Whatever happened, it’s gonna be okay, baby. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Grayson adds just as softly, looking equally as distraught as his brother. Their concern seems to push me over the edge and I have to cover my mouth as I break down crying once again.

“I’m sorry, this is so uncomfortable! I’m sorry,” I blubber out between cries, gasping out wet breaths to attempt to keep the incoming tears from cascading. “I’m gonna be okay, I’m just being dramatic. I’ll be okay,” I reassure them, but it’s mostly me talking to myself and telling myself to get it the fuck together.

“Where are you? You shouldn’t be alone right now. We’ll come get you,” Ethan desperately tries to put a plan together to come to my rescue and I so appreciate him for that. But having them come onto my campus will only cause problems for them and the three of us are aware of that.

“No,” I protest, “it’s okay, I’m okay to drive. I’ll come to you guys. I don’t want you guys getting mobbed.”

“And you’ll stay overnight, at least. I don’t want you staying alone tonight,” Grayson states more than asks. But I nod along anyway, truthfully in no mood to be by myself for much longer.

“Come see us babe, we’re waiting on you. Come home,” Ethan coos gently. My heart melts at him calling his house home. And then it dawns on me that nothing in the world sounds better in this moment than being wrapped up in my boys.

“Okay,” I whisper out, giving a pitiful sniffle. Grayson looks like he would leap through the screen right now if he could. Both boys do.

“I love you,” Ethan pipes up before I can end the call.

“I love you too. So fucking much,” Grayson contributes and I’m able to crack a smile that’s small but genuine.

“I love you guys. I’ll be over soon,” I sign off and I wave at them before ending the call. I make myself as presentable as possible and stand up, finally registering that I’ve been sitting on a public toilet in my pants for the past however long. “Ew,” I mutter, unlocking the stall door and washing my hands before making a beeline out of the building and beginning my trek to the parking garage across from my apartment.

When I finally arrive at my car, I feel less like crying and more like curling up with my favorite guys. I load my things into the car and prepare for the 30 minute drive to the twins’ place and, in my haste to see them as soon as possible, the trip seems at least 5 times longer than usual. So pulling into the boys’ garage at last, then, is the sweetest relief I’ve experienced all day.

I don’t bother bringing my backpack with me when I hop out of the car and lock the doors, shuffling toward the twins’ house. I raise my fist to knock on the door but before I can make any contact, it flies open to reveal Ethan looking more worried than I’ve seen him in a long time. “C’mere,” he beckons me softly, reaching out to cup my face in his hands and bringing his plush lips to my forehead in a sweet kiss. I close my eyes at his attention, wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing tight. Being in Ethan’s arms right now is like a breath of fresh air.

“I missed you, E. I need you. You and Gray,” I mutter and he hums, lips still pressed flush to my forehead. He pulls back with a soft smack.

“We’re right here. And we won’t leave your side,” he promises near my ear before planting a quick kiss there as well and reaching out behind me to shut the front door.

“E? Is she here?” comes Grayson’s voice from somewhere behind Ethan. I keep my eyes closed, knowing he’ll come and find us. Ethan’s taken to resting his cheek on top of my head and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, gently swaying us where we stand.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Ethan calls back and, sure enough, I hear the sound of Grayson’s feet padding nearer. And then his voice is much closer than before.

“Well lemme see her,” Grayson says softly and I feel Ethan place one more firm kiss to my forehead before releasing me and I open my eyes just in time to find Grayson waiting on me with open arms. He stares me down with droopy, soft eyes and gathers me up into his chest, holding tight. “How’s my girl, hm?” he murmurs into my ear, pausing to kiss the top of my head before his lips resume their hovering over the area near my ear. “I know I told you you didn’t have to talk about it, but please tell me what it is. Tell me what it is so I can fix it,” he pleads, voice a pleasantly deep rumble beneath where my head is resting.

I take a moment to inhale deeply, breathing in his woodsy cologne. “Gray,” I sigh out, clinging to the thick fabric of his hoodie with needy fists, “I failed my test in that one class I was telling you guys about. The one I’ve been having trouble in already. And if I don’t bring up my grade, I might fail the course. And if I fail a course in my last semester here, I might not graduate on time,” I begin to ramble at this point. I feel Grayson nod at various points in my speech.

“You’re not gonna fail, babe. You’re just having a rough time in the class; it happens. It’s only your first test,” Ethan soothes. And the thing is...he’s right. Grayson nods again.

“Exactly. You’re gonna do just fine, we know you are. We’ll help you study. We’ll fucking,” he scrambles to find the words, “we’ll come to your lectures with you. We’ll take notes. Whatever you need,” Grayson suggests and my chest does that fluttery thing that only he and Ethan can make it do. This earns a giggle out of me and I lean my head back so that I can look up into Grayson’s face. He seems mildly perplexed that I’m laughing.

“Thats so sweet, Grayson,” I smile up at him and use a finger to lovingly tap the tip of his adorable button nose. That earns the beginnings of a lopsided smile out of him. “I know you and E would do anything for me. That’s why I love you guys so much,” I gush, essentially staring right into Grayson’s face with major heart eyes. “Thank you,” I all but whisper before leaning up and into his face, kissing the light stubble below his cheekbone. The smile that spreads across his face is borderline dopey.

I give his firm body a squeeze before gently breaking away to show Ethan some love, as well. I slowly approach him, smile spreading shyly across my lips as I draw nearer. He must decide that I’m taking too long, because he reaches out a long arm and pulls me in with a gentle tug, causing me to stumble into his chest with an embarrassingly high pitched squeal of delight. He twines his arms around my waist and lowers his head so that we’re face height with each other, turning so that his cheek is closest to me.

“C’mon. My turn,” he encourages, waiting for a kiss like the one I gave Grayson. I snort at his cheesiness, but it makes my heart thud violently nonetheless. I don’t hesitate to lean in and plant my lips on his cheek, drawing it out before pulling back with a loud, dramatic mwah! “Oh yeah,” he gloats after I pull away and I can assume based off of the smug smirk on his face that he’s addressing Grayson now. “My kiss was better,” he taunts and I fondly roll my eyes at him before spinning around and allowing him to pull my back to his front as I watch for Grayson’s reaction. He stares back at Ethan with his expression portraying the utmost boredom, looking utterly unamused.

“Ethan,” he starts before even begins to address the teasing, “that didn’t even count. She felt sorry for you because you begged for the kiss. And she kissed me first, idiot,” he accuses and I know exactly what he’s doing. The bickering between the boys hasn’t even begun and my stomach is already bubbling with impending laughter, which is surely Grayson’s intent.

“You’re so fucking jealous, bro. You’re mad because she’s mine,” I feel Ethan shrug before resting his chin on my shoulder. I bite my lip at that lovely claim. It’s amazing to me, at this point, that I started this day so horribly and that it’s turning out so fucking well.

“How is that possible?” Grayson’s eyebrows furrow as if what Ethan said is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “That doesn’t make any sense, Ethan. Because she’s mine,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks at me, shaking his head in mock-exasperation and I laugh. Completely disregarding Ethan’s hold on my waist, he grabs my hand and entwines our fingers, pulling me towards himself instead. Ethan catches my hand just in time and I end up holding hands with them both, swinging both sets of our joined hands back and forth playfully.

The boys are wearing matching smiles as I stare between the two of them, all traces of their playful fight forgotten as we circle back around to the reason that I’m here. Grayson hip checks me, staring down into my eyes with a gentle grin on his pretty, pink lips, an unspoken gesture of comfort.

“Just to let you know,” Ethan starts, causing me to look over at him instead, “if you have any more trouble in that course,” he uses a free hand to gesture between himself and his brother, “Grayson and I will he happy to find your professor and kick his ass.” he deadpans, causing me to bark out a surprised laugh. The statement is so ridiculous that it catches me off guard and I end up having to lean over as I continue to choke out laughter. Whether this laughter is borne of Ethan’s declaration or out of delirium after having such a previously awful day, I’m not certain; I have a feeling it’s a healthy mixture of both. In my haze of mirth, I don’t quite catch on that I’m the only one laughing. When I’m reduced to chuckles, Grayson clears his throat.

“We’re serious.”

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wickednerdery · 6 years ago

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Title: FrostBitten: Ice Cream Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Jotun!OC x Reader (& Loki) Rating: Teen Summary: “Just show me a sundae.” Notes: This is a series/multi-chapter fic - Masterlist Here. Ulfr is a Frost Giant, more clearly so than Loki, and “played” by Lee Pace. This piece is more Ulfr and the Reader, but Loki does show up. The whole thing in general is dark, but this one is actually pretty tame, even sorta fluffy…For consistency and its length it still gets a “Read More” though, haha!

You watch him warily. He’s not overtly threatening, he didn’t root for his turn with you like the others that first night, but there’s something not quite right about Ulfr either. If Loki’s too intense, he’s too erratic. He’s apathetic, then annoyed, now seemingly delighted as he stuffs large spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth.

“Is...is that all you want?”

“Hmm?” Red eyes glow curiously.

“You don’t...want it...in a bowl, maybe?

He swallows. “You people are almost as fussy as Asgardians.”

“Maybe we just don’t want our ice cream melting all over the place?”

“Is the ice cream melting?”

Now that he mentioned it... “Well, no.”

“Then don’t worry about it.” He stuffs more in his mouth, gives a moan that borders on obscene.

You shift on your stool, play your body into the angles of it. “You, um...you don’t want it in a sundae?” Given his love of the food, he seemed the type.

“Sunday?” He chuckles. “I eat it every day.”

“No, um...” you try not to laugh as you spell it out. “Sundae, it’s uh...” You smile. “Can I show you?”

Ulfr shrugs. “Go for it.” Continues eating.

“Well, don’t eat it all!” You laugh, reach for the tub, only to have him tense slightly. You pause, watch him crimson-eyeing you back. “Are you...scared of me?”

The easy smile returns. “You’re half my size.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Your lips curve. “And doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.”

“Just show me a sundae.”

Still smiling you pull items from the refrigerator and cabinets, whatever you think might work for toppings. You set them across the counter before grabbing two bowls. “So...” you settle onto the stool beside him. “What you do is -”

He immediately grabs and tosses the bowls into the sink. “Get on with it.”

You sigh, press on. “Just...add whatever you want to the ice cream. Chocolate sauce, caramel, butterscotch, peanuts, candies, whipped cream.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. That’s a sundae”

He laughs, pouring everything into the ice cream carton.

You can’t help but laugh as well, more when the man stuffs a massive portion of the mixture in his mouth. There’s an unmistakable, deep, growl of enjoyment as he savors the first bite. He swallows hard and growls into another. “Mmm...” he licks lips after another swallow, you copy without realizing. “Genius.”

“Genius?“

“This...” he grins. “This is genius! Who would have thought...only Midgardians.” He chuckles. “Have some.”

“Uh...” you’d forgotten one hunger for another. “Yeah.” You grab a spoon and dig in. This time you’re the one watched and he makes no efforts to hide the keen stare. It should scare you, the intensity of it, but fear isn’t what bubbles up. It’s closer to aroused insecurity. What’s he thinking? Does he like what he sees? Does he even care or is he just playing nice on Loki’s orders? You smile, swallow. “Good.”

“Genius.”

You watch him eat, start to pick up details beyond his eyes. Lines the color of faded-denim too distinct to be veins that decorate his body, his face. The chill that comes off him like an open freezer. His maintained hold on the ice cream unless you go for a bite. Those leather gloves still, always, on. “Can I...ask you something?”

He shrugs as he eats.

“What are you?”

Ulfr has been getting that question since his arrival on Midgard, but yours is somehow different. It holds interest rather than fear. Red eyes soften into yours, he smiles. “What do you think I am?” It’s meant to be cocky, playful, but hits your ears as almost...shy?

“Well, um...I don’t know.” You laugh nervously, not wanting to offend in a guess. “I mean, it’s not a stretch to say you’re from another planet, right?” He blinks, leans in with interest. "But you’re not, um, from Asgard...You’re not like Thor or Loki. You’re big...cold. You make, keep, things cold.” You nod to the ice cream, his smile turns impressed. “Are you a god too?” Your understanding was that Thor and Loki both were...or at least as close to gods as can exist. “Like, an ice god or something?”

His small smile blooms wide; seeing the potential awe in your eyes he wants to tell you he is, but in the end goes with the truth. “I’m from Jotunheim, my people are known as Jotuns...or Frost Giants.”

“That explains your size,” you smile as pieces start to fit into place. “Is...Is that why this place is an ice castle from the outside? Why it’s always wintery now?” Maybe you should be terrified, but all you are is fascinated as you move in closer. “Is it to remind you of home?”

This time he’s the one shifting, only it’s back as you strike on a bit of truth he’d rather you didn’t. Yes, he misses home, of course he does, but there’s nothing left for him there. “It’s to keep those who might attack docile and away from here...And it’s what we do when we take over a planet. Make it more suitable for us.”

Part of you knows all too well how many are dying on the streets due to the bitter cold, a cold of his making...The rest of you is pathetically fascinated. “What else can you do?”

Despite all efforts to hide, control, his Jotun nature there’s something genuine to your interest that makes Ulfr want to show you...to show off. He stands, pulls gloves off, and you see the dull blue lines creating Vs between his fingers before continuing on as roping vines.

You stand, eyes widening in awe, as he cups hands together and they go blue. Deep blue, those crisscrossing lines lifting into ridges, before one hand slowly lifts off the other. In his palm is a small, transparent, four-legged creature. You lean in closer to see it’s made completely of ice. You grin up at him. “Is that a wolf?”

“Ulfr...” there’s a softness mixed into his relaxed nature. “It means Wolf so...” he shrugs. “Wanna see it move?”

“It can move?”

He doesn’t answer, only runs a finger from his other hand across the creature’s back, giving it frost for fur before it begins to shift, settle into a pouncing position before jumping up to attention and barking mutely.

“Oh my god, that’s awesome!” You can’t even pretend it isn’t, that you’re not impressed, amazed; it’s like nothing you’ve seen before. It’s something out of a Tim Burton movie, bizarre and fantastical and beautiful. You reach out to touch, to pet, but suddenly Ulfr closes his hand on the critter.

“No.”

“Sorry,” you frown, deeper as he backs away. “...I just...”

“I wouldn’t get too close to him, my dear.” Loki’s sneering causes you to jump and he laughs. “Have you ever seen a severely frostbitten hand? It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you.” A too-bright smile appears. “Quite a sweet scene you two make. Almost...romantic.”

You can feel the heat of your face, know you should look Loki defiantly in the eye, but haven’t the ability. Instead your eyes furtively go to Ulfr - gloves back on, face dulled - then down.

Loki breathes dark amusement. “Are you enjoying yourself, my bold little pet?”

As if the words themselves remind you, trigger that desire still unsatisfied, you feel your body reignite. The raw need for release returns, intensifies. It’s like you can feel Loki, his fingers between your thighs, at clit, brushing ever so slightly. Teasing, drawing to the edge once more. Deep breath in, slow exhale, and you answer. “I’m just...enjoying ice cream.”

“Yes, I see that.” His eyes rake over your form, setting off sparks. “But there’s more than just ice cream to be enjoyed...Shall I show you?”

“I, uh...” Desperately want to...so desperately you don’t. He’s playing with you, you know it. It doesn’t change the desires, just increases the urge to fight it.

“Come here...Now.”

There’s a new chill from Ulfr, a shutting down, even as he closes in. “What are you waiting for?” Eyes well tears as Ulfr backs up once again, shifts attention away and to his ice cream sundae.

You guess you were right, he was just being nice. Entertaining you until Loki wanted you again. You take a defeated breath and head towards Loki. What else is there to do?

This actually turned out way sweeter than I expected (outside the end, lol), which is nice I suppose. Brings some balance to the darkness before and the darkness to come, haha! I think Ulfr indulges the reader, kinda starts to like her, because her interest in him is genuine, pure, and not tied to a fear of him. Don’t worry, Loki will be in a significant portion of the next piece...and I’m sure he’ll do something terrible, haha! 😉

(Gif made by me via two gifs I found on Google.)

Tagged: @welcome-to-fangirl-hell @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7 @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes ...…I think I got everyone, if you want on or off the list, just lemme know!!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki of jotunheim #jotun #frost giant #OC: Ulfr #original character #loki x reader #loki x reader x oc #predator!loki #predator #frostbitten #au #give me the darkness #ice cream #fanfiction #my writing #not my gif #but kinda my gif

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overwatchimaginations · 7 years ago

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Can I have McCree flirting with a bounty hunter after him?

He was here.

You knew he was here.

Your gloved hand hurridly brushed away a droplet of sweat trickling down your forehead. The blazing sun had already caught you out; pink singed your arms. You were thankful for the light serape and brimmed hat you had managed to pick up a few towns back. Your footsteps crunched quietly on the dirty floor, stones and sand littered the tiles in the abandoned diner. Glad to be out of the sun, you took off the hat and gingerly placed it on top of the counter whilst trying not to make any noise. You ruffled your fingers through your hair in a vain attempt to untangle the sweaty knots. The air was hot and dry. No breeze had passed through this place in a long time.

He had though.

Your lowered your hand to hover on top of your holstered pistol, the other resting on top of your hat on the counter. You tilted your head back, closing your eyes you took a deep breath. All you had to do was wait.

“Y'know, doll, this place ain’t been servin’ for a while.”

Looks like you didn’t have to wait long. You spun around at the voice, quickly drawing your gun and steadying it with both hands.

“McCree.”

He tilted his hat with his prosthetic hand in acknowledgement. His eyes locked onto yours, before stalking forward towards you. You took a step backwards, your hip hitting a scratched up leather stool. He slowed when he was about two foot in front of you, leaning his forearms onto the bartop. The position made it so he had to jut his backside out. The outlaw pulled a cigarello from one of his many hidden pockets and bit the tip, lighting the end with a zippo before taking a puff.

He took no notice of the weapon in your hands still pointed at him.

He gestured to the outdated drink machines precariously perched on a table against the wall.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t drink the coffee. Always tasted like boiled dirt.”

You frowned at his casualness.

Why was he so calm? You’d heard rumours about what he had been through. About Deadlock. Blackwatch. Was he used to being in danger? What a shit feeling to get used to.

You sighed, essentially chucking your gun onto the counter and hoisting yourself up onto one of the seats. It had split open, part of the padding had fallen out and the tough leather was digging into your backside. You placed your hands in your lap and your back was slouched. You stared ahead at the ‘artwork’ on the walls, clearly showing a simpler time when everything hadn’t gone to pot.

“Given up already?”

He turned his torso so he could face you properly, now only leaning on one elbow. The other hand had taken ahold of the cigar, the metal fingers slightly glinting from the ashen embers.

“You’re obviously used to this.”

His brow raised.

“What? Bein’ on the run?”

You nodded. You pressed your lips together.

“You ain’t used to this though, are ya’?”

You shook your head. Why lie? Your right leg was jigging up and down in a repetitive motion. It was a bad habit. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach between his legs to clasp onto the edge of the stool, shimmying himself up onto the seat so he was at the same height as you.

“What’re you doin’ chasin’ after someone like me?”

You glanced over at him. Your eyes were drawn to his inquisitive chocolate ones.

“Curiosity.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

“Strangest reason I heard so far.”

A cloud of smoke drifted across your vision.

“So what’s with your ‘curiosity’ then?”“Just… Curiosity.”

A slight furrow of his brows and shift in his position made you explain more.

“I’m not curious as to what would happen to me if I didn’t come after you.”

He raised his head up slightly at your whisper, the grim realisation showing plainly on his face.

“Ya’ bein’ forced.”

“I had to try. Turns out I don’t have it in me to shoot someone.”

He broke contact when you said that. He puffed out another cloud of smoke, tapping the ash from the cigar onto the counter.

“So whatta ya’ g'na do?”

Creases framed his pools, a sign of spending too long in the sun and frowning too much. He was side-eyeing you.

“I don’t know.”

You faced forwards, bringing up your hand to wipe at your forehead again. You sighed, irritated at your gloves. You pulled them off and laid them on top of your hat.

“What d'ya want to do?”

A moment passed from your hesitation.

“Live.”

A deep chuckle from him reverberated around the empty diner. Your ears twitched at the sound. You hadn’t heard something like that in a long time. It was pleasant.

“Yeah, I could say the same. You’ve done well t'find me. Not many come this far and live.”

You pushed your hands in between your thighs, seeking a safe place in this unnatural situation. He took one last drag and stubbed out the end on the countertop, leaving a flurry of ash in its wake.

“Considerin’ you ain’t a bounty hunter-”“No. I am.”

He physically faultered.

“But ya’ just said you weren’t.”“I said I wasn’t used to it. Not the big guys, anyway. I know when I can win a fight, and I know when to back down. It was stupid of me to even try and track you down.”

A smirk flashed across his lips. It was gone in an instant.

“Like I said. Not many even pass the threshhold of this place.”

You sucked in a breath of the stagnant air.

“Why am I different? Why am I not lying in a pool of blood at the entrance?”

Your jaw tensed, a sudden burst of anger filling you with confidence.

“Calm down, pecan.”

McCree’s metal hand patted your thigh gently before coming to rest on top of it. The coolness was comforting.

“I knew ya’ wouldn’t kill me.”“You saying I’m weak?”“Absolutely not. Jus’ sayin’ you brought that to try an’ take me down. I’m a bit offended, if I’m honest, doll. It’ll take a lot more for me to come willingly.”

He was referring to your six shooter lying pathetically on the bartop. Your face had heatened; whether it was from the pet name and physical contact, or anger that he had just insulted your trusty weapon, you don’t know.

“What would it take?”

He removed his hand from your thigh and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

“I’d rather die than become tied down again.”“I see.”“And seein’ as you clearly ain’t g'na be doin’ that today..”

You huffed. Another laugh escaped from him. Clearly your frustration was entertaining him. You pouted at him.

“Chin up. It ain’t all bad.”“Mm. Coming from an outlaw.”“What’s that s'posed t'mean?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. A corner of your lips tugged up in a half smile.

“You can technically do what you want; you already have a price on your head. I don’t.”“D'you have people after you?”“If I don’t bring you in.”“Well then. Looks like there’s another 'outlaw’ joinin’ the party.”“What?”“We’re both on the run now, (Y/N).”

You blinked forcefully, the smirk wiped off your face. The moment of banter was clearly over.

“How do you know my name?”“Kept tabs on ya’. Figured it was only a matter o’ time before you turned up on my doorstep. Surprised y'ain’t questionin’ that I’ve made you jobless now.”

You straightened your back, a temporary relief from being hunched over.

“So you knew who I was all this time?”“Mmhm. We’re similar. People know the name, the face. Once they see us for real it’s usually the last thing they see.”

Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip. It was true.

“How can I trust that you won’t just shoot me the moment I turn my back?”“I may be on th'other side o’ the law, but I’m still a gentleman.”

You pursed your lips.

“You didn’t aswer my question.” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I wanna be the next Bonnie and Clyde.”“..Who?”

He dramatically rolled his eyes at you.

“Partners in crime?”“Nope.”“I’ll have t'teach ya’.”“Will you now?”“Mmhm. Nobody’s g'na mess with us, doll.”

The easy banter was back, and you felt your ears burn at the now obvious flirting. He grinned at you, knowing the exact effect he was having.

“C'mon, lemme show ya’ around.”

He slid off of his seat and held out a hand in your direction. You stared down at the dark skin, calloused from probably years of hardened training. It was your choice. You took his offer and there was no turning back. You met his gaze.

He seemed eager. Eager to teach you. Eager to have company. Eager to not be alone.

You were too.

Looking back, placing your hand in his was the best decision you ever made.

#overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #bounty hunter #outlaw #route 66 #overwatch route 66 #gender neutral reader #overwatch x reader

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