thank you so much to @nimmydeede for the beautiful, gorgeous cover illustrations, and of course to everyone who contributed to thomesa week 2023 (praying i didn’t forget anyone in the high) - @nice-to-meet-ya-shank @itsthemxze @pathsofoak @iasconsumesmedia @subjecta5theglue @broadwayfan828 @tmrsunset @smalleymcsmall @nimmydeede 🩷
My take on the story if the world was kind enough to remake and recreate both of these beautiful stories.
NIMMY writing// MATURE FLUFF
“Bloody mess…mmm…both of us.” He could barely mutter much when meeting the other’s neck. He did his best, keeping Thomas close while hands trekked downwards, upwards and in many more ways.
The cannula complicated only what was unnecessarily known and they both found it in them to snicker and continue. The sudden roll of hips; a breath that cascaded in particular beats; lips which knew very little and perfecting it all the same.
No, there was no magic nor any poetic value in the simple touches. It was more and more until neither cared to think against it.
And when Newt finally reached to them both and cared in ways one rarely shared with another, Thomas thanked him with a small and faint moan and a quiet, “thank you” across his bare shoulder and collarbone.
It was his own way of saying the weak farewell he would eventually have to properly kiss away come morning.
Frypack. The little one's we must cherish and look after. Made this fic because a certain writer made me realize the beauty in this small relationship 🥺❤️