#*gasp for air*… yeah and all the above is scratching the surface

[zippityzap]

Ever get the urge to do like, five or ten different things simultaneously???

[biteofcherry]

part of the Summer Entrées triptych

Bucky Barnes x female reader

warnings: Bucky being a menace; inappropriate use of an inflatable flamingo; oral; 

Bucky’s low huff of laughter seems to caress you better than faint brushes of summer breeze. The air is thick and heavy with heat, the only soothing coming from the cool surface of the pool. 

You’re sprawled on a huge, inflatable pink flamingo, the plastic squeaking with the tiniest of your movements; but the heat has melted away any of your will to be active, so you stopped moving long ago. Feet dipping in the water, eyes closed behind your sunglasses, you float atop the ridiculous bird.

Whenever the flamingo is about to move further across the pool, Bucky gently pulls it back over, so your conversation could carry on without either of you having to shout. 

He is the only reason you lift your head now and then, just so you could steal a glance at his perfect form sitting on the edge of the pool. 

Wearing nothing, but black and blue shorts, Bucky leans back on his elbows. His sunglasses reflect the vibrant blue skies, though personally you think it’s still less beautiful than the cool shade of Bucky’s irises. 

The sun likes him a lot; licking his skin with perfect strokes of golden tan that only seems to define his muscles further. His dark hair - wet not long ago, from the short swim he took - is already dry, inviting you to comb your fingers through it. You want to scratch his beard, too; feel him hum against your lips as you do it mid kiss.

He’d taste a little bitter now, from the drink he made himself. You’re not sure where he gets it from, but Bucky mixes really good drinks. But only sour or bitter ones, steering away from your preferred sweet. 

Bucky always says he has you if he wants to indulge in some sweetness.

Each time he tells you that, you laugh and call him corny. 

“Think I need a chaser with this one,” Bucky’s voice holds a tint of impatience.

“Now? You’ve already downed most of it.” You reply, eyes fixed on a tiny smudge of cloud dispersing across the sky. 

“Mhm,” he hums in reply then you hear a soft splash of water, assuming he pulled his legs out of the pool to go for another drink. 

What you’re not expecting is a warm hand clenching around your ankle and yanking you (along with your big flamingo) over to where the steps into the pool lead. 

Your skin burns as it un-sticks from the pink plastic when you lift your upper body to look at what’s Bucky doing. 

He’s not sitting on the edge as you thought, having stepped onto the stairs and sitting down on the second top one. Water there barely reaches his stomach in a sitting position, but as he pulls your floaty over it proves to be perfect height for his face to be in line with your hips.

“Need something sweet on my tongue now, doll,” he says and though you can’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, you’re acutely aware of his gaze trained on you hungrily. 

“Have you gone mad?” You gasp when Bucky tugs on the string tying your bikini bottoms. Yet you make no move to actually stop him. 

“Yeah.” Bucky flashes you a wolfish grin, ripping away the scrap of fabric and tossing it somewhere across the pool. “It’s all the sun. And all of your hotness.”

Flamingo squeaks beneath you as Bucky parts your thighs and yanks you to the edge of the floatie, so he can have your sweet pussy exactly where he wants it. 

“Was thinking about tasting you all over for the past hour. I was waiting for you to get off that damn thing, but you seem to be glued to it.” He growls in dismay. “So I had to take matters into my own hands.”

You gasp at the first stroke of Bucky’s warm, wet tongue between your folds. It is his way to start his torment, a broad lick and then the tip of his tongue dancing over your clit until you squirm.

You stretch one of your arms above your head, fingers gripping the handle attached to the flamingo; with your other hand you reach for Bucky’s hair, grasping a fistful. 

Your foot splashes water when you kick helplessly as Bucky’s mouth starts devouring you in an ungodly way. As if he was starved and your cunt was the juiciest, most ripe fruit.

One of Bucky’s arms curls over your abdomen, keeping you in place, the other holds the inflated wing of the flamingo, so the stupid floatie doesn’t move away from your writhing. When his tongue switches from circling your clit to slithering inside your fluttering opening, you have to let go of Bucky’s hair to clamp a hand over your mouth.  

There’s a tall, thick fence of bushes providing security and privacy from neighbors’ eyes, but if you were loud (as you tended to be with Bucky) they wouldn’t need a visual to know what was going on. 

You almost kick Bucky when he sucks on your engorged bundle, tipping you over the edge. 

His tongue eases some, licking over your folds in soothing laps as your trembles subside, but then he increases the pace anew. His beard has already caused delicious abrasions on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your mound, now he deliberately rocks his chin between your soaked folds. 

When Bucky suddenly splashes cold water across your heated skin, you shriek; but the contrast of the cool drops shocking your skin with the warm mouth sucking you senseless, rips another orgasm from you. 

You’re panting, your head pounding so much you fear getting a heat stroke. It feels as if your body has melted into the plastic, not a single muscle willing to move. 

There’s a loud splash of water and next thing you know Bucky’s heavy, wet body lands on top of you as the flamingo sails forward from the force of the impact. 

Your yell combines with Bucky’s raspy laughter.

[hollideon]

soothing tongue — knifeplay, aftercare, that robot has A Thing for blood

///

warm, wet, a bit abrasive. stinging, but in a comforting way. Bree's synthetic tongue glides slow across the open wounds on your back; short and shallow slices she herself left. you can't help but gasp and writhe, just a little bit, under the sensation.

"stop squirming, i need to make sure they're cleaned properly." firm, but still a bit teasing.

"are you sure this is part of it or do you secretly run on blood?" you ask, alternating between gasps and giggles.

sitting on the bed behind you, she tends to your back. you shudder as her razor-sharp metal talons play across your sliced-up skin. leftover combat hardware, she'd said. tame compared to the stuff they didn't let her keep. Bree — short for Breach and Clear, you've learned — was a field synth, a purpose-made combat android. lithe but still tall and imposing. metal and silicon and carbon fiber, she makes you feel especially fragile.

"my hardware doesn't, but it does give me something to get out of bed for." she says this jokingly, but you can hear the underlying hunger in her artificial voice. her tongue returns to your wounds and you gasp as the abrasive surface pulls on the edges of a particularly cruel cut. she slows herself though, caressing the aggravated wound with slow, gentle licks. the pain melts away.

"y-yeah but why do you have to lick them? they make you with antibacterial spit? sorry if that's um, a weird question."

her tongue pulls away, ever so slowly. "not at all, it's just like show and tell." she winks, like the iris of a camera. "it's simple really, just flush out the synthetic saliva and put a canister of antibacterial solution in instead."

"hehe, sounds like you've done this before."

"once or twice. i scare most humans off... and y'know, other synths don't bleed." she doesn't bother to hide the hunger in her voice now. Bree's tongue having not returned to your cuts, you turn your head to look up, behind you. even seated she looms above there, angular metal body glinting in the low light. the red glow of her eyes bore into you. tall and inhuman. a literal weapon. some part of your brain posits that this view of her is probably the last thing a lot of people ever saw.

"m-more for me," you stutter out, forcing a chuckle in an attempt to purge that moment of genuine fear from your mind.

"oh?~ you want more, do you?" her voice practically drips with sadism and those claws again dance ever so lightly down your sensitive back.

"pleeeease," you can't help but whine.

"cute, but you've had enough for today. besides," she says with another antibacterial lick, "i'm nearly done cleaning you up."

you continue melt under the care of her tongue, taking its time to give each and every cut and scratch the care it needs. stinging and soothing. so warm. though it felt strange at first, now you can't imagine a greater comfort.

a short time later, you and Bree sit together on your apartment's little balcony, your wounds properly cleaned and bandaged. the night air is cold — you share a blanket, though she doesn't need it.

[ravensliterature]

Braid = Marriage?

A/N: A new day and a new post

pairing: Fili x Reader

warnings: Mentions of nudity but nothing happens

w/c: 1957

Prompt: You got done washing up and Fili offers to braid your newly clean hair but there is something he kind of forgot to tell you... 

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The company had been traveling for quite some time. Long days on the road can make anyone feel grimy. The mud, the bugs, and the smelly dwarves didn't help. You love them dearly, but it doesn't mean they don't smell. Your hair was wet from sweat, and your armor was dirty from days of continuous travel.

"We stop here for tonight!" Thorin yelled to the rest of the company.

They all cheered and dismounted from their horses, stretching their legs. You were one of the last to get off your horse, and you felt your stiff muscles begin to relax as your feet hit the muddy ground in the clearing.

Everyone started setting up camp or cleaning their gear for the night. You walked over to Dwalin, who was sitting by some logs eating from his food pouch. He looked up when he heard you approaching.

"Need anything?" he asked.

"No, not really," you said, wiping the dirt from your pants.

"Are you okay?" he inquired.

You laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm great. I could go for a nice bath."

He smiled back at you and nodded in agreement. "Aye, I feel you. If you don't mind going by yourself, I believe there is a small river not far from here," he explained.

"That would be perfect," you responded, giving him an appreciative smile.

You quickly turned on your heels to find this supposed river. It was exactly what you needed—a bath and a chance to clean yourself before bed.

You walked until your boots sank slightly into the softer ground. There was a small stream flowing around the foot of a hill, leading to a river big enough to bathe in.

As you approached it, you noticed how large it was. The water was clear as it rushed from the rocks down to the center of the river. The surface of the water shone a dark blue, reflecting light from the clouds above. You stood still for a minute, admiring the view. It was peaceful and beautiful.

Slowly, you began to take off your clothes and undergarments. You tossed them onto a nearby rock and then climbed in. The water was pleasantly warm, almost relaxing. You lay still for a few minutes, enjoying your surroundings. Your skin tingled as a cool breeze blew through the trees around you. The sun was beginning to set, making the scene even more beautiful as it reflected beautifully on the water. As the sky turned red and the sunset approached, you turned to exit the river. It was only then that you noticed you weren't alone.

The trees rustled and your fear began to rise. The sound filled the air, and you thought to yourself, "I'm done for. I've got to leave." But before you could move, another person stepped out from behind a tree. It was a familiar face.

"Fili?!" You gasped. His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth forming an 'O' of shock as if he wasn't expecting to see you there.

"Y/N?!" Fili exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "Well...I wanted to bathe!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here!" Fili looked down sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh well..." you mumbled quietly. You could feel his piercing gaze boring into you.

The two of you sat silently for what seemed like hours, trying not to look at each other. Finally, you found the courage to speak.

"Well, you're free to join me, the river is for everyone," you chuckled lightly.

"Yes, alright..." He agreed, finally tearing his eyes away from yours and walking to the bank.

He stripped off his cloak and tunic, leaving just his pants on. As he reached the shore, he took off his socks and shoes and jumped into the water. Once inside, he waded further in until he was waist-deep. When he was completely submerged, he began to relax in the warm water.

You watched quietly and admired the way the water played with his dark blonde hair, creating little twirls. You'd never admit it to him, but the sight made your heart beat a little faster.

After watching Fili for a moment longer, you turned away, feeling a bit self-conscious after realizing how much you stared at him. You decided to make your way over to where you dropped your belongings and began to dry your skin and hair.

Just as you finished drying your skin and were about to braid your hair, Fili walked out of the river. You turned around to meet his eyes. You couldn't help but gulp in nervousness, noticing how attractive he appeared right now.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted awkwardly.

You returned the greeting, smiling shyly. "Hi..."

The two of you stood awkwardly staring at one another for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Fili broke the silence. "I can help braid your hair if you want," he offered hesitantly.

"Really?" You asked excitedly because you loved the dwarven braiding style.

"Of course," he replied. "Just let me get dressed first."

He began to get dressed. You noticed his chest had become broader than it had been when you first met. You wondered how much training he received. You wondered if he fought dragons. Did he have scars? Were they dragon-related?

Once he was fully clothed, he turned around to face you. You decided to put on your attire together so he didn't expect you to immediately turn around. You were startled by the sudden closeness between the two. You tried to keep your composure, but he smelled intoxicating, like fire and leather.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, concern written on his face. "You seem kind of tense."

"Uh, yeah... let's just braid my hair," you stuttered slightly. "It's just hot in these clothes."

"We just bathed, I'm freezing," he chuckled.

After taking your hair out of its ponytail, you pulled out one of his spare braids and started weaving it in. You tried hard not to think too much about what the dwarf looked like naked. You hoped it wouldn't come across as creepy.

"So," you said awkwardly, "tell me something about yourself."

Fili stopped in front of you, staring at you. He looked down at his braided hair and then back to you. "What would you like to know?"

"Um, how about... how long did you live in Erebor before the dragon?" you replied.

He thought for a moment before responding. "Never had the chance, the dragon took my home before I could live in it."

"Sorry," you apologized. "Were your parents around before the dragon?"

He shrugged and continued on his braiding. "My mother was and lives in the Blue Mountains. And my father, well, he was killed during the battle of Moria."

"...Will I be welcome in Erebor?" you asked curiously. "I mean... I'm just some human and I don't know any of the dwarven cultures."

Fili sighed. "Of course, you are Y/N. You are one of the company, basically a dwarf by friendship."

You blushed at his compliment, then shook it off. The two of you kept braiding and chatting about various things as time ticked by. By the end of your time, you had a braid about the length of your arm.

"We probably need to return to camp, but first..." He paused to grab a bead from his hair. "I'd like to put this in your hair to hold the braid."

He handed you the bead as you held out your hair for him. He finished the braid and gave a triumphant grin.

"Thank you," you thanked.

Fili gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to thank me."

The two of you walked back into camp.

You both sat at the table while Kili told stories. He spoke of his adventures and of Thorin who had been the king while in the Blue Mountains. Everyone listened with attention until Kili turned to you and asked:

"Y/N, is that Fili's bead in your hair?"

You nodded in confirmation.

"Why is it so important for you to have Fili's bead?" asked Kili.

"Because it's a dwarvish custom," Kili said matter-of-factly. "It's a sign of courtship!"

"Wait, what?! Courtship?!" you exclaimed. Your cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment. You had never really thought about courting someone before. You had only recently accepted your love for Fili. What would he say if he found out? Would he feel disgusted or happy? Would he accept the proposal or reject it?

Everyone seemed very confused about you and Fili having courted. They hadn't thought Thorin would allow you two to be together since he was crowned prince.

"Do you love him?" Balin suddenly asked. You were shocked to find that they already knew about your feelings. How did they find out?

You hesitated for a moment. Should you tell them how you felt or not? You decided to tell them the truth. After all, they were your closest friends. No secrets. Especially not with them.

"Yes. I do..." you said, trying to hide your face.

Fili then proceeded to have the toothiest grin you'd ever seen. He leaned forward towards you and grabbed your hand, which made your heart flutter. You felt so relieved and embarrassed but at the same time so elated.

Fili squeezed your hand tightly and whispered in a low voice that no one else could hear, "Y/N, I love you. More than anything in the world."

You couldn't even bring yourself to respond. Instead, you simply smiled and nodded.

"So when were you going to tell me about your surprise courtship plans, Fili?" asked Thorin sternly.

"Uhm..." Fili looked at you. You could see him blushing as he struggled to form coherent words.

Thorin rolled his eyes and shook his head exasperatingly. "Just tell me!" he demanded, irritated.

Fili took a deep breath and closed his eyes before speaking. "I love her, Uncle," he stopped to look at you nervously.

"And what makes you think that?" questioned Thorin, sounding suspicious.

"Well, she has always been a good friend of mine. Not many people understand me as she does. She doesn't judge, and she asks questions. She is my best friend and she is my One," he explained, still looking at you with a hopeful expression. "She cares more about the company than she cares about herself sometimes..."

"Aye, she's done plenty of foolish stuff to save this group," Bofur reassured him, giving Fili a small pat on the back.

Thorin nodded approvingly. It was true. Many times you've risked your life to save your friends' hides. Even Thorin couldn't stop himself from admiring your courage. He knew that you're not a weakling. You were tough, smart, and strong. A true survivor. But sometimes you were just a bit reckless. She would be a fine wife for Fili.

She deserved to be with someone who loves her unconditionally. Someone who respects her intelligence, personality, and loyalty. Someone who treats her with respect and compassion. Someone who will protect her and love her always. Someone like Fili.

"I approve," Thorin continued, "Don't you dare hurt her, Fili."

You saw the relief wash over Fili's facial features. "Never, sir," he promised, placing a kiss on top of your head.

You laughed lightly as the pair continued to banter. The rest of the night was filled with laughter, stories, and lots of food.

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[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 30

“We thought it was rain!” Johanna splutters as Finnick dunks her again, partly to wash her off, and partly to keep her and Katniss apart as Katniss helps scrub off Nuts and Volts.

Wiress keeps saying “Tick, tock. Tick, tock,” and it’s already driven Johanna up the mast, so we have separated them.

Johanna hauls in a breath as she pops above the surface. “You know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty.”

This time Finnick lets her finish her sentence before dunking her.

She comes up again. She is looking cleaner. “But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood.” She scratches her fingernails along her scalp, scrubbing more blood out of her hair. “Thick, hot blood.” Johanna takes a deep breath before Finnick pushes her under again. She comes back up and goes on without missing a beat. “You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful.” She goes under again, then comes up again. “We just staggered around, trying to get out of it.” She pauses, staring off over my shoulder at the trees. “That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

“Johanna…” But I don’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry, Johanna,” Finnick says.

“Yeah, well,” she blinks hard, “he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She sucks in a huge breath and plunges back under water. She stays down there a long time. She finally emerges, gasping for air, but looking clean and determined, pushing back the hair that has come loose from her ponytail. “And he left me alone with these two.” She waves a dismissive hand at Nuts and Volts, but there is something else in her eyes.

Johanna knows. She knows what I don’t know. What Katniss doesn’t know she doesn’t know.

“I got them out.” Johanna turns to Finnick. “I did my job. I’m in the alliance—right?” She looks desperate.

Finnick nods. “Yeah. You’re in, Johanna. You’re with us.”

She looks at me and opens her mouth, but Finnick shakes his head.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s go get some food.”

Katniss has cleaned up Wiress while Alvan and Cecelia have patched up Beetee’s back. We all sit in the shade as the sun rises higher and higher, Finnick and Haymitch catching Johanna up on the last twenty-four hours of our lives.

“So that’s why you all look like lizards.” Johanna smiles a little.

I raise my eyebrows, but Alvan, who is relaxing in the sun, chuckles. “I’ll bet we do. All scaly ’n’ dappled ’n’ green. Start peelin’ soon with any luck.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I must fall asleep again, because I am woken up by Katniss shaking me. If I look anything like her, I do look like a lizard.

“It’s a clock!” she keeps saying, over and over, while behind her Nuts repeats “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

When Katniss has roused us all, she starts talking a million miles a minute.

The arena is a clock. Lightning strikes at noon and midnight. Johanna’s blood rain in the next wedge from one o’clock to two, then the poison fog, then the monkeys, and at ten there is the wave that carried away our poor wretched jumpsuits.

The wave that carried away Zalea and Tychus. The wave that drowned the boy from Three. The wave that broke the boy from Twelve’s treehouse. The wave that swept me to victory.

The wave that washed away the old Annie, whose flippers I have never been able to fill. She left me a house and a father and friends, a closet full of green dresses, a picture frame that shows the laugh of a boy I will never see again, a nickname I can never live up to.

My foot scrapes against something that isn’t sand. I inhale sharply.

“Careful there,” comes Alvan’s easy voice from behind me.

Without really thinking, I nod, focusing on my feet. We are walking along one of the rocky spokes toward the cornucopia. Ahead of me, Cecelia is guiding Wiress forward, and beyond them is Johanna, then Haymitch, leading the way.

I don’t remember how we got here, or why we are going to the cornucopia. I’m not even sure we’re going to the cornucopia, but I don’t know what our destination might be if that’s not it.

I feel incredibly validated when we stop in the mouth of the cornucopia. At least I figured that out by myself. And I walked myself here. Those are achievements.

Katniss sets Nuts to cleaning the congealed blood off Volts’s coil of wire while the rest of us pick through the weapons that are still in the cornucopia. I notice Finnick and Haymitch making a conscious but subtle effort to keep Johanna and Katniss as far away from each other as possible.

I understand that. If Katniss is going to snap and kill any of us, it’ll be Johanna. They rub each other the wrong way, and yet Johanna went through all the work to bring Nuts and Volts to us, practically pleading to join the alliance. The unwelcome thought crosses my mind that, when this alliance breaks, as it will have to eventually, I will take Johanna’s side. We’ve been friends for three years now and I’m not about to let that go.

They are talking about canaries in coal mines and Wiress is singing while she scrubs the wire and Cecelia is checking Beetee’s back again. Haymitch and Alvan look around at the jungle, hilariously similar in their mannerisms, each with a hand on their waist as they use the other to point and gesture.

And then someone screams.

“Alvan!”

His head whips around.

My gaze follows, too slowly, only in time to see a knife thunk into Wiress’s chest. The boom of the cannon almost masks Beetee’s sorrowful groan, but there is no time to focus on Nuts’s death.

Cashmere is sprinting up the stony spoke in front of us, reaching for another knife. Behind her thunder Brutus, Gloss, and the woman from Nine, whose name escapes me but who I remember Beck telling me to stay away from.

Cashmere throws another knife, but Haymitch shoves Katniss to the side just in time. The knife grazes his shoulder but does no further damage.

Katniss has an arrow on the string and just as quickly it is gone, but Cashmere didn’t win by being stupid. She dives to the side, into the water, and the arrow hisses past where she was just a second ago and buries itself in Brutus’s thigh.

The cannon booms again and I have no idea who is dead. Before I can even puzzle out if another member of the alliance might have been killed, the ground jerks beneath my feet.

The arena is spinning like a merry-go-round. Or maybe just the cornucopia. I cling to the sand for dear life. Then, just as quickly as it started, the spinning stops. I have always hated merry-go-rounds. Laying on the ground, I hear the others sound off, get slowly to their feet, raise their voices in a panic.

“The wire! Where’s the wire?”

By the time I have eased myself upright, still a little dizzy, Katniss is climbing out of the water, hauling the coil of wire. Cecelia sits next to Alvan, whose head is between his knees, his shoulders shaking. Johanna helps me to my feet. Finnick is slapping Beetee’s back the best he can without hitting his wound. Beetee coughs up some water and Finnick nods.

Haymitch’s head looks like it’s on a swivel as he looks here and there, every which way. “Where the hell…?”

“Can we leave now?” Johanna says, that familiar bored annoyance creeping back into her voice.

“Sure thing.” Haymitch rolls his eyes. “Which wedge would you like to go to?”

“The lightning tree,” Katniss says. “That way we have plenty of time to rest up and plan while we know we’re safe.”

“Yeah, of course. Just tell me which way that is,” Haymitch drawls sarcastically.

Johanna, Finnick, and I start off in three different directions. I glance back to see Alvan pointing in a fourth, and Cecelia looking around in wild confusion. Katniss frowns, looking around at the identical wedges of the arena.

“Thought so,” Haymitch says.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Alvan says, still pointing in the direction the tail of the cornucopia faces. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us. I was judging by the sun,” Finnick tries to defend himself.

At least they were being logical about it. I had just gone with my gut.

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick,” Katniss says.

“I think Katniss’s point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of jungle as well,” Beetee says thoughtfully.

We have lost our advantage, and we can’t even follow the tracks that Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, and Nine might have left, because they have either been blown or washed away. Which reminds me…

“The second cannon,” I say quietly.

Alvan slumps again.

Cecelia smiles sadly. “It was Kivvie. She must have seen them coming and yelled to warn us. Enobaria…” She trails off. “We owe her at least some of our lives.”

Haymitch nods.

“But we’re still lost.” Katniss’s question seems self-serving, almost crass, but on her face is a deep respect and something bordering on sorrow.

Beetee shakes his head. “Only temporarily. At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Unless we’re in the wave section. Then we’ll all be dead.” Katniss glances at me and then at Finnick. “Well, most of us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Johanna says impatiently. “We’ll stay right on the beach if that makes everyone feel better. Then we have a fighting chance, even with the wave.” She almost smiles at me. “You might just pull it off again. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

“Something like that,” I say. “I don’t want to have to do it though.”

Johanna shrugs. “Well, I need water. What’s the plan?”

So we pick a random direction. By the time we reach the beach, we are fairly sure that it’s the monkey hour, and we don’t see any of them in the trees, so we decide to risk it. Katniss taps a tree while Alvan stands guard and Finnick weaves yet another water basket while I strip vines for him.

The work is mindless, and I find myself thinking over our time in the arena. Not in the way that usually happens, where I fade out and listen to the screams from my Games, but in a conscious, curious, confused way. Why do we have such a huge alliance? Why did Johanna risk her life just to bring Katniss Nuts and Volts? Why is Cecelia patching all of us up, making sure we are bandaged and our wounds clean and non-debilitating when she could get rid of half of us by leaving us to bleed out? Why have Finnick and I been catching enough shellfish to feed six to nine people instead of letting the others starve? Why did Kivvie condemn herself to death at Enobaria’s hands to warn us the Careers were coming when she could have been several people closer to victory by not shouting? Why did Haymitch put himself in the path of Cashmere’s knife to move Katniss-

Oh.

We are keeping Katniss alive.

We. Like I’m in on it. Everyone except me is keeping Katniss alive. I look at Finnick. He has that same look he always gets when he’s concentrating.

He glances up at me and grins, then goes back to work.

No. I know that smile. He might not know it yet, but everyone is keeping Katniss alive except for Finnick, who never lets me out of his sight. Who is going out of his way to make sure no one tells me what’s going on. Who is doing everything he can to keep me fed and watered and safe and well-rested. Who will jump ship the minute this plan puts me in too much danger.

But now I know, so I will fight all the harder. I will not let him jump ship. And I will stay with him.

Finnick has finished his basket and hands it to Katniss to fill with water. She takes it, and it is half-full when I hear the high, blood-curdling scream.

Katniss drops the basket, the water spilling everywhere, and runs.

“Wait, Katniss!” Finnick is after her like a shot, calling over his shoulder, “Stay there!” Then he disappears into the trees, still shouting, “Katniss, no! Come back!”

I stay by Alvan. He yanks the spile from the tree and hangs it around his neck.

The same scream echoes through the trees again but worse, so much worse, and Alvan bolts. But not before I can see the realization in his eyes. I run after him.

“No! No, wait!” Alvan shouts, sprinting through the trees down the trail of destruction the other two leave in their wake. “Katniss, come back, they’re-!”

I don’t find out what they are. The scream falls silent.

“Katniss?” Alvan calls cautiously.

There is another scream. Not the little girl. I recognize its beginnings from one day, many summers ago, swimming north of the pier, where sometimes there were jellyfish and we weren’t always careful enough, but now it grows far beyond that. This is worse. So much worse. It is a tortured scream I have never heard before, and one I will never hear again, but I am eighteen again and Mako’s head falls to the ground.

I am running, chasing the sound as it drags on and on. I slam into someone, scramble back to my feet, look wildly around for the source of the scream.

And then Mako’s scream is cut mercifully, horribly short.

“Annie!” Finnick has both hands on my shoulders. “Annie, it’s just a-”

Jade screams. And Coral. And Dad.

Finnick is still talking, trying to keep me here, explain what’s going on. But he has forgotten one thing: I can still take him in a fight. And they are hurting everyone I love.

I rip my arms away from him and run.

Somewhere Rizz is screaming. Mr. and Mrs. Silther. Beck. Mags.

A bird swoops by my head, Jade’s shrill wail of pain following it. An arrow strikes the bird. It falls to the ground, and the scream falls silent.

Other people are screaming. Little kids. A man I don’t know. Someone that sounds like Alvan but isn’t quite.

I look at the bird.

And then I notice the others. The trees are full of them. And every time they open their beaks, a piercing shriek comes out.

All four of us are running, crashing through the jungle, back the way we came. The birds follow. There are Johanna and Cecelia, their mouths moving in shouts we can’t hear over the birds, gesturing at us to stop.

Katniss and Finnick bounce off thin air like birds bouncing off a clean window. I have no time to stop, slamming into a clear wall and falling back onto the ground. The birds are everywhere. What I would give to fade out now. Anything would be better than the screams. I clamp my hands around my ears. I can still hear them. Dad and Coral and Jade and Rizz and I am screaming too.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

“And while we waited for Beck to come back with the ice, we tried to scare off the gulls.”

He sounds horrible.

If the audience didn’t know before, they do now. I am curled against Finnick, hands clamped over my ears, throat raw from my screams. He is sitting against a tree, both arms around me, talking quietly. Some story about catching a big swordfish and not having a good way to store it.

Slowly, I move my hands and look up at him.

His eyes are scared but he smiles anyway. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Finnick,” I rasp, barely holding back a sob. “They hurt them.”

“No.” It’s Johanna’s voice, quiet behind me.

Katniss is in hysterics not far away. The little kids must have been for her. I don’t know anyone younger than me who isn’t in the arena. And Finnick… I’m right here. For a horrible moment I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Mags was in the arena instead of me. But I don’t have to wonder from how tightly he’s holding me. They would have been my screams, not Coral and Jade and Dad. Not Mako. Just me.

Beetee is talking. Something about how easy it is to take any recording of a person’s voice and distort it into those pained screams. How the jabberjays were repeating sounds that have never been real, never been made by the people they were mimicking. But it’s too late. It did what it was supposed to.

Haymitch and Cecelia are sitting next to Alvan as he rocks back and forth on the sand.

“Finnick-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispers, voice hoarse, pulling me against his chest and kissing my forehead. “I’ve got you. Stay with me.”

I nod. Then it hits me, really hits me. They know now. Not just Snow and his inner circle whose job is to spy on victors and keep up on everything about us—but the audience. Not just Marius and Dalia. All of Panem. Does it matter? If this plan to keep Katniss alive hinged on no one knowing, he could have left me in Johanna’s care, or even with Haymitch. But he didn’t. He’s here.

“Stay with me.”

I shrink against him, tapping on his stomach. Thought they weren’t supposed to find out. Haymitch-

Doesn’t matter now. We’re getting out.

It takes focus to not react to that. I start to tap back, but he beats me to it. Can’t explain. Stay with me. I love you.

I love you too.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

There is a cannon later that afternoon, and the hovercraft has to pick up five separate pieces of whoever it was.

After the anthem plays, we find out it was Seeder. The other two deaths today were Wiress and Kivvie.

Are there really only seven of us dead? I can’t bring myself to voice the question, and before I can dwell on it too long, a parachute floats down. Haymitch, unprompted and unteased this time, grabs it and opens the basket to reveal lots of small rolls of bread. Sadly, they are not cream cheese rolls.

“They’re from my district,” Beetee says, looking up at the spot where they projected the dead tributes. No doubt he is mourning Wiress. No doubt all of Three is mourning her. Hence the rolls.

But there are a lot of them.

“Twenty-four,” Finnick says.

“Three each.” Johanna nods appreciatively.

So we each eat three of the rolls with our oysters and sit on the beach until the ten o’clock waves rolls down. Then we pack up and move to that slice of beach.

Alvan speaks for the first time since the jabberjays, but only to say quietly that he’ll take the watch.

The rest of us settle in for the night. I curl up on the sand, feet toward the water so I can see the length of the beach and trees sprawling in front of me until the curve of the shore takes it away. Sleep, however, evades me. I lay awake, staring blankly ahead, for a long time, listening to Haymitch and Beetee and Johanna talk about something. Their words are lost in the roar of the wave and the thunder of the buffalo herd.

There is a thump and a huff behind me.

I start to roll over, but an arm slips around my waist and Finnick says, “Just me.”

I frown. “Wh-?”

“They already know,” he mumbles. He’s already falling asleep. “So I’m getting a good night’s sleep.”

Hard to argue with that logic.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[strangelysamantha]

hey, i have a jj maybank request! fem!reader, possible angst!

so basically, y/n is a pogue and gets along with the other pogues (john b, pope, sarah, kiara & cleo) except for jj. y/n is always bright, a total sweetheart and bubbly and jj…hates it.

john b recently opens up a surf board shop on that stranded island that they’re on?? and he leaves y/n and jj alone to polish some boards hoping that they’d get along. jj complains about every little thing y/n does and starts calling her names. she gets really upset and storms out the shop to clear her head. she goes by the water for a swim but a dangerous tide picks her up and jj notices and saves her?? hopefully this makes sense!

the deep end ☆

jj maybank x fem!reader.

warnings: mentions of drowning, jj being an asshole, swearing.

words: 1,674.

summary: jj somehow finds everything you do annoying to the point he criticizes everything you do. john b thinks of a plan that will ensure his two friends will befriend each other. it was working at first, until it wasn’t.

request? yes!

a/n: y’all have such good ideas what the?! thank you for the request! if you enjoyed please like and comment. this is angst with fluff at the end. <3 BTW i am from missouri and have never surfed so i hope i got the polishing of the surfboards correct. :)

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

john b always had a plan, well usually he did. if two of his friends were fighting, he would always find a way to get them to get along. he knew that stranding kiara and sarah on a boat together in the middle of nowhere would force them to fix their friendship. so, with that knowledge, he knew that he could do the same thing with jj and you.

you were always nice to jj, he just seemed to get annoyed with you all the time. you didn’t know what you had done, if you had even done something. he just always felt the need to critique you. it became harder and harder everyday to ignore him.

since washing up on the abandoned island, john b was ecstatic for his brand new start. unsurprisingly to anyone, his first idea for creating a new civilization would be a surf shack. he started building it right away. you would occasionally help, but he was determined to do it on his own so he would always send you away.

“okay! john b what would you like my help with? i can do anything you need. just let me know.” you smile brightly at john b, while he stared at you. “listen, i love you. but, i don’t need your help at the moment. you should talk to everyone else.” you frown at his words, “fine. but you better get me the minute you need assistance.” he nodded. “will do.” and with that, you left joining the others.

jj was talking to cleo before silencing upon your arrival. “hey everyone!” you smile at the group in front of you. “hey! how’s john b?” kiara asked. “i think he is good, he’s actually pretty much done.” you play with the bracelet on your wrist. kiara nods, “that’s great.” pope smiles, “statistically speaking, we can’t ensure that his shack will be entirely safe as he built it all on his own.” you stare at pope. “true… we’ll let’s hope it doesn’t collapse on him.” pope smiled at you, glad you listened to his random fact.

jj groaned. “awe, how sweet pope!! you found a girl who wasn’t disgusted by your weird and useless knowledge.” you gasp in shock, “jj! shut up you are so rude.” jj laughs, “it’s just a joke, why do you always have to be so offended?” you glare at jj. “jj it’s not funny, you’re just a dick.” pope sighs. “it’s okay, don’t worry.” you frown in popes direction. you quietly pull away from the group. you walk to an area of sand, plopping yourself down. that’s when john b approached you.

“hey, remember when i told you i would come get you when i needed help?” john b smiled at you. “yes! do you need my help?” you tilt your head to the side, waiting. he nods. “i need you to wax up some of the boards i made.” you nod. “okay! sure.” he walked you to his shack, helping you set up. you began waxing the board, paying attention to the direction and the amount of wax you were applying. john b waits a minute watching you, before he decides to leave.

after a minute, you see jj approaching the shack with john b who held a smug smile on his lips. you shake your head, confused. “friends.” he looked between you and jj. jj held an unamused look on his face. “as my close friends, you will wax these boards for me. you can’t stop until you guys fix whatever feud is going on between the two of you.” john b stands his ground. jj scoffs, “we don’t have a feud.” you nod your head in agreement. “jj is right, his hatred is definitely one sided... it is not a feud.” you laugh softly seeing jj send a glare your way. “yeah okay. whatever guys. just fix it, and if you even try and leave, i’ll send cleo after both of you.” your eyebrows lift in shock. you mutter a quick okay, returning your attention to the board.

jj stares at you, watching you apply the wax. he couldn’t help but get upset. everything you did just made him annoyed. he grabbed the wax, working on the board right by yours. silence falls over the two of you. it’s not awkward or weird, it actually feels quite normal. until jj interrupted it so he could judge you.

“youre doing it wrong. i mean come on.” you stare at jj, “jj please just focus on your own board.” you shake your head, continuing to polish the surfboard. he glares at you. “whatever. just keep doing what you are doing, and then john b or i will fix it after you.” his attention turned back to his board. you rolled your eyes. “i will, thank you.” he breathes in, inhaling the waxy scent. “you are so annoying you know that?” you ignore jj’s words, focusing on the board. he continues, “i mean everything you do. everything you say, it pisses me off.” you nod slightly. “you done?”

“no, actually i’m not.” you bite your lip, fixating on the wax that is spreading along the smooth surface. jj stops waxing the surfboard. you look up to see he is already staring at you. “you know, you act like you are better than us, i mean why do you hang out with us anyway?” jj waits but continues when he realizes you won’t reply. “you are fake, you are so upbeat and bubbly that it’s annoying. you are a double sided two faced bitch who says anything to get in good graces.” you inhale, looking up at him.

“listen jj. we are stranded on this fucking island. TOGETHER. so either drop it and move on, or just shut the fuck up and stay away from me.” you place your hands on your hips, breathing slightly staggered from anger. “everyone speaks so highly of you saying how great you are; but the only jj i’ve met is a total douche. if you hate me so much then just stay the fuck away from me. if you continue you’ll just be wasting your breath and energy anyway.” jj holds back a laugh at your sudden outburst.

“you really think if i had the choice, i would want to be here? especially with you?” jj asked, you already knowing the answer. you stay silent. “exactly. no one can deal with you for that long anyway.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever jj. you win.” you toss the wax to the side, frowning. you don’t turn back to him, you just ignore him. you start to walk towards the beaches seashore. it was getting slightly hot, so you decided to take a dip into the water.

you were salvaging the few moments of freedom you had, before you got john b’s and cleo’s wrath from leaving the scene before mending the friendship with jj. it was practically impossible. what did jj have against you? you tip toed into the water, getting deeper and deeper. you floated at the top of the water; the coolness feeling great on top of your hot skin.

jj truly had the biggest nerve, your mind was overwhelmingly clogged. you felt seaweed scratch against the bottom of your foot, this caused you to jump, your adrenaline levels rising since you thought it was a fish. you try to remain afloat, but the high tide caused the waves to crash right over you repeatedly, being faster and higher than ever. you went above water trying to shout for help, but your mouth was filled, causing no sound to come out. you thrash against the water, kicking to stay afloat. your throat was burning, your legs tired from kicking, and your lungs filled with liquid.

a pair of hands wrap around your stomach, dragging you out the water. you were placed on the warm sand. “shit.” jj stared at you. your head felt light. jj’s hand began pumping your chest, curses falling from his mouth. “come on, just breathe. please.” you cough, the salt water exiting your lungs, and dropping onto your neck. you gasp for air, opening your eyes to be met with jj’s face. you breathe heavily for a minute.

“jj… thank you.” you sit up, pulling him into a tight hug. your hands wrap around his neck, one of them grabbing his hair. his arms held tightly around your waist. his chest was heaving heavily, shaking slightly. “i hate to be so cliché j, but you genuinely saved my life.” he frowns at you. “i almost lost you.”

jj’s confession confused you. “what?” you say softly, your hand combed through his hair. “look. the reason i’m so mean to you, is because i knew that if i was nice to you, my already intense feelings for you would only amplify.” you frown at him. “you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” jj nodded. you went to talk, but your friends interrupted the moment.

john b rushed to your side, kiara and pope swiftly behind him. “what happened!! we were watching from over there.” john b pointed in a direction farther away. “one minute you were swimming… the next you we’re gone!?” you wipe your neck, trying to dry it off. “jj saved my life. i almost drowned.” you frown, the group in front of you nodded. “im so glad you are okay.” kiara bent down pulling you into a hug. “i’m glad you are safe now too.” pope joined in on the hug; as well as everyone else.

sarah, kiara, and cleo bend down, reaching for your hands. they help you up, dragging you to your feet. they walk you away from the crowd, bombarding you with questions. “so when you were drowning what did it feel like??” you turn around watching jj, you smile slightly before turning to them. “oh get ready for the amount of details i’m going to give you guys.”

possibly a part two…??? not sure yet :) <3 also!! i’m proofreading this tomorrow since i’m not entirely sure if it has errors or not! ily!!

[l4verq]

boats🎣 | b.b

bucky barnes x reader

in which you’re supposed to be helping repair sam’s old boat but your boyfriend keeps distracting you :(

tags : 18+ minors pls DNI , bucky’s a horn dog and so is reader, sam doesn’t know bucky has his hand right on reader’s 🐱 and reader is TRYING to keep it that way lol, no plot, just a little porn 😼

fic : one shot

stern - the back part of a ship |

gangway - a flat board or metal structure that can be put in place between a ship and land to let people get off or on the ship |

cabin - a private room on a ship for a passenger or one of the people working on the ship |

masterlist

you know he’s not doing it intentionally.

the slight grunts as his vibranium arm effortlessly rips off rusty, rotting pieces of wood hastily hammered over cracks and gaps.

you’re scratching off stringy residue of duct tape slapped on holes in the stern, standing a few feet away from him, taking in the view.

not the one overlooking the wide stretch of blue water.

but the one where your boyfriend’s wiping the sheen of sweat off his face with his shirt and it’s not just any shirt, it’s the light grey one that’s one size too small but fits so right on his sculpted body.

he lets it drop, panting as his eyes trail over to you and smirks.

ok, so maybe he does know what he’s doing.

you go back to vigorously scraping off the grimy, faded string- how does duct tape turn to these stubborn, ugly strings that just refuses to come off?

and to top it all off, sam’s parents - god rest their souls - used the tapes in places you’re having to bend over, stretch your arms down as much as you can and hopefully are actually scraping the residue off.

“i got it.”

you jump a little, startled by his voice.

that sweet, sweet voice that brings you to your knees [literally] everytime.

he’s right behind you - you’ll never get used to his super soldier thing where he can sneak up on literally anyone - his crotch pressed right onto your ass as he bends down as well, arm sneaking down yours.

oh, he definitely knows what he’s doing.

his hand grabs the handle of the metal scraper in your hand, taking it from you.

the boat sways a little, just a little.

shouldn’t make him thrust right on your denim shorts clad ass, making miss kitty down there all flustered.

bucky’s a lot of things and being an insatiably annoying tease is just one of them.

he gets back up, vibranium around your waist pulling you up too, “sarah said she needs help with the pipes.”

you could use some help with piping too, you think.

“oh, okay.” you say breezily before getting out of his way.

getting out of his way as in sliding your ass across his crotch, a small groan leaving his mouth right into your ear.

he’s played this game with you way too many times and always won.

it was time for a new victor.

and so the rest of the day is just relentless teasing, lingering touches, strokes and a lot of “oh silly me, i dropped something. let me just pick it up.” and slowly raising your ass up his legs, feeling his jeans constrict just as you lift it away.

at one point, he’d pressed you against the wall, pinned your wrists above your head, i know what you’re doing.

cue innocent batting of your eyes, with a what?

you were the clear winner, until now.

until now when you’re in the cockpit, on your tippy toes, straining to hold up the glass pane.

“i don’t know how to break it to you that you’re not tall.” sam yells from the other side of the glass, voice all muffled.

you roll your eyes, practically unsticking your sweaty front from the majestic helm that’s been poking your belly for five minutes now. to say your tank top is just drenched in sweat is not an exaggeration.

totally not the hot girl summer aesthetic you were hoping for this year.

“need a hand?” bucky pokes his head in from the door, eyebrow quirked.

how does he get to look that good all sweaty and grubby?

“yeah, sam’s screaming at me cause i’m short.” you pull your lip, turning to face him.

he chuckles, lowering his head at the doorway and enters the cabin which suddenly looks even smaller because of his towering presence.

“i’ll lift you up, c’mon.” he extends his arms, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips, a playful glint in his eyes.

you turn around warily as he hops around the heap of boxes, screws, wrenches, crocks cluttered around the floor and he’s right behind you, hands tinkering around your waist.

but he slides his right palm right between your legs, other hand on your.... fuck, does it matter?

the only thing on your mind right now is him hiking you up, palm basically cupping your denim clad pussy.

you shakily hold up the glass while sam begins applying window sealant from the other side, completely oblivious to your boyfriend groping you.

his cool, metal arm rests under your thigh, a stark contrast to the burning ache between your legs.

“such a tight spot here.” he comments, palm squeezing slightly and it takes everything in you to stifle a moan.

he was crammed up against the helm, legs bumping into empty jars and canisters. you can only hope sam thought he meant that.

and it’s just torture, the next three minutes perched under his palm, desperate for some friction, to just rub it out all the while maintaining a poker face right at sam in front of you.

not helping that he’s having a casual conversation with sam, knowing full well that you’re absolutely just falling apart under his touch right now.

and the waves, the stupid waves that rock the boat so now bucky has to ‘adjust’ you, bouncing you up on his palm, squeezing your thigh with his other hand.

“sam!” a distant voice calls out.

you silently thank the lord for answering to your prayer.

“i’m working!” sam yells back, eyebrows furrowed, applying a line of translucent paste on the lower frame.

“SAM!”

sam huffs, screwing the cap on the tube of sealant back on, “i’ll be back. you can let go now.”

your sore arms cry out in pain as you retract them back, shaky legs because of a certain blue eyed 106 year old whose hand is shoved between them.

“i got you.”

bucky easily bounces you around, gripping your waist, your legs wrapping around his torso.

“you good?”

his right hand rests on your lower back to support you, eyes raking over your arms.

bucky’s a lot of things and being a caring, doting absolute annoyance of a boyfriend might just be the best one.

you just wait for the familiar creak and slight tilt of the boat confirming sam’s waddled across the gangway before crashing your lips into bucky’s, nearly tipping him over.

it’s almost animalistic, his lips part, letting your tongue slip in and delve in his taste that’s just so.. bucky.

it’s sweet, minty, tangy and you’d figure out the rest if only you both didn’t have to pull away, gasping for air.

“you’re so annoying.” you breathe out, panting right into his mouth.

jars tip over like dominoes as he backs you to the wall, shielded from the many windows but if someone so much as just craned their neck a little to look in, they’d have a front row seat to your snog fest.

“you know what these shorts do to me.”

his vibranium arm snakes around your waist, locking in, making that mechanical sound that’s just so sexy to you for some reason.

the evening sun is a little more merciful than the blistering beams of the morning but crammed up in that tiny area, sweaty bodies clinging to each other, you might just have a heatstroke.

if you didn’t pass out from the throbbing down there first.

“i need you to keep that pretty mouth shut, can you do that for me?” he cooes, forehead resting on yours, fingers reaching down to rub back and forth between your shorts.

you nod feverishly, unable to form words, hands grasping at the wall behind, his biceps, his back, everywhere, the long awaited friction sending sparks up your body.

“can’t let nobody hear us, now can we?” his lips trail to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, a dull pain overpowered by pleasure coursing through out.

your hand tugs at his hair, soliciting a low moan from him.

“teasing me with your ass all out in these shorts,” he drawls, “such a bad girl.”

you’re hyperaware of the wide open cabin door and how someone could just walk right in, those two kids are always running around ever- fuck, the kids.

god, you’d never be able to face sam’s family ever again.

but it’s somehow the least of your worries when he lifts his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them with soft groans.

and he shoves them in the front of your shorts, “so tight,” he growls, hand barely fitting in.

you gasp as his finger finally make contact, run up and down your sopping slits.

“hmm, always so wet for me.” he groans, sloppy kisses down your neck, along your collarbone.

you whimper as he teases two fingers at the entrance, making you jolt when his thumb starts circling your swollen nub, the bundle of nerves coming undone.

his name’s a strangled, wanton noise deep from your chest but he gets the message.

that you need him to put a baby in you... y’know something along the lines of that.

but like aforementioned, he’s a tease.

so his fingers slowly push in, only the tips greeted by your walls.

“just as tight as i remember.”

back arching when he finally slips them all the way in, palm slightly tapping against your clit and you’re certain you see stars.

and he does the thing where his fingers hook, curl, twist, your legs squirming, his name falling out of your mouth like a chant.

your legs buckle, his fingers moving at an ungodly pace and the only thing holding you up right now is his iron grip round your waist as you shakily find your footing on the floor.

“fuck, you’re clenching so hard, baby.” he rasps, your head lulling into his neck, legs jerking against your own control.

you’re almost there. the familiar tightening of the twisted spring in your lower abdomen, toes curling against the rough surface of your slippers, almost..

creak.

-

a/n : 🤔🤨😳💤🏃🏻‍♀️💨 dk how i feel about this one bestie💭

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Cliff Dive | Percy Jackson

Summary: Being mortal, Y/n has no clue what dangers lie in wait in the water.

Category: fluff

–––––––––––––––––

          “You guys sure this is safe?” 

          “Even if it’s not you’re not backing out after we drove all the way here.”

          “But this is a much bigger jump than we’ve done before.”

          “You’re the one who got bored with our usual spots, and my brother says he comes here all the time.” That didn’t really help you feel better since your friend’s brother was on a first name basis with the nurses at the ER. And standing on the edge of the cliff that looked a lot smaller when you were in the car, the unfamiliar creep of doubt tugged at your mind.

          “Kendal, what happened the last time you trusted your brother on something he said was safe?” You looked over your shoulder at her and watched as she shifted her weight to her good ankle. 

          “It was only a sprain, nothing broke,” she defended. “And since when did you worry about stuff like that, you’ve done way worse than this jump and walked away without a scratch.”

          “Yeah, I’d say Devil’s Peak was way rougher terrain than this,” Jack piped up once he reached the platform you and Kendal were on. 

          You turned back to face the water, the full moon lighting up the far off horizon and the deep blue water. Even though the waves were calm, the way they hit the face of the cliff below your feet was more astutely described as less of a “splash” and more a “crash”. 

          “If you’re chickening out move over,” Jack called. “But you’re buying snacks for the way home.”

          “I’m not chickening out,” you threw back at him. 

          “Then what are you waiting for?” 

          A few more seconds and your gaze leveled at the water. You nodded and started to take off the clothes you had on over your swimsuit. Kendal and Jack cheered. 

          “If I die, tell my mom it was from studying too hard.” Which was the lie you had told your parents about what you would be doing tonight. 

          The pound of your feet against the rocks began before your brain commanded it, the edge of the cliff was behind you before you could stop them. Air rushed past and all trepidation flew away with it as a shriek of exhilaration burst from your lungs. In a blink you were submerged in the icy water.

          The shock wore off quickly and you gasped for air, hearing distant hollering from your friends high above. 

          “Come on!” You shouted up to them, starting to swim a safe distance away from where they would land when something brushed past your foot. You had been swimming in this ocean for too long to let some fish spook you, but then it wrapped your ankle in a vice-like grip and yanked you below the surface. 

          The surprise had made you cry out the air you had and scramble back up to break the surface just long enough to gasp in a breath and hear the cheering from your friend’s turn into concerned shouts. But you couldn’t make out what they were saying before you were pulled under again, this time you were too far down to reach the air again, and you were plummeting at an alarming rate.

          Turning your attention instead to the reason for your descent, you barely contained the scream that threatened to expel the last of your air when you saw a writhing mass in the dark depths. You couldn’t make out anything more than a faint glimmer of moonlight on scaly tentacles and yellow eyes. Your best efforts to try and kick yourself free were fruitless as your head grew light and your lungs burned. You were just at the point of passing out when a disturbance in the water to your left caught your attention and in your fading consciousness you imagined a boy with a sword swimming towards you. 

          Percy was hoping to simply ignore the thrill seeking cliff jumpers who were ruining his quiet night away from camp. This was usually his alone-time spot when he needed a break, but he sighed and resigned to the fact that this night wasn’t going to be as “alone” as he had hoped. He watched with passing interest as the first one jumped, disappointed when they didn’t do a flip. 

          Then the shouts from the others turned distressed and Percy looked over to see the one in the water struggling to stay above the surface before falling below and he was on his feet. A tentacle flailed above the waves and he was running.

          Percy didn’t know the name for this kind of monster but it was an ugly one. He focused on dodging and slicing the tentacles attacking him and willed the water to carry him faster to the struggling girl who was passing out. Unfortunately, the monster noticed Percy aiming for its prize and wrapped another tentacle around her abdomen, pulling her closer to its body. 

          He tried to dive down after her but a mass of viscous tentacles were now focused on him and he divided his attention between hacking at them with his sword and pulling together an air bubble around the girl’s head. 

          Your lungs noticed the sudden air available before your mind did, and your eyes opened expecting to be on the shore out of danger. Only instead you woke to find yourself still deep underwater, and a crushing weight against your abdomen. 

          Apparently when fighting for life, a person’s brain can cope with a giant tentacle monster and being able to breathe underwater rather quickly. Instead, you switched your focus to escape. 

          The sword boy must have been real after all since he was still there fighting the monster. Wishing you had a sword of your own to cut the tentacles, you searched your surroundings and settled on a sharp rock on the sea bed. The monster let you swim closer to it, considering it better than you swimming away and as you reached the sand. Your hand wrapped around the rock. Holding it tight and you bashed it against the tentacle around your waist. 

          The monster was surprised enough to release you and you made a mad dash to get back to the surface before it recovered its senses. Which unfortunately didn’t take very long. Now both of your legs were trapped in it’s grip around your thighs and you didn’t have the rock to free yourself. And on top of everything else, your magical air bubble was fading fast.

          “Hold still!” 

          The boy, who’s voice you somehow heard underwater, was now next to you. You ceased your struggling long enough for him to cut your legs free from the tentacle. By now your air was gone and you held in the last of it. He wrapped one arm around your waist and the other he thrust out in the direction of the monster, distantly you wondered where his sword went or if you had imagined it the whole time. Your head was getting foggy again and you couldn’t be sure of anything other than the hard body that you were pressed against.

          Percy was finally able to use the currents to push the beast far away now that the girl was no longer in its grip. He could’ve finished it off if he wasn’t so worried about her air running out as she was already falling unconscious in his arms. He’d have to kill it later.

          Percy held her to his chest and willed the water to bring them to the surface, she didn’t wake up right away and he cradled her head in his hand.

          “Hey, open your eyes, look at me,” he coaxed her gently and felt relief rush through him when her eyelids fluttered open a crack. “You’re ok, I got you.” 

          She nodded weakly but he could feel her breathing even out. Now he needed to get her dry and warm.

          He debated whether or not to use his powers to get them back to the shore. On the one hand, she needed to be out of the water asap, but on the other she might have a few questions if he just sped through the water like he was David Hasselhoff. He landed on swimming, but like a Micheal Phelps-on-crack swimming. 

          When the water became shallow enough he carried her over to where he was previously sitting and grabbed his jacket from the ground. 

          “Here, put this on.” He guided her arms through the sleeves and then rubbed his hands up and down them to get her warm. “How do you feel? Are you hurt?”

          He scanned for injuries, noticing bruises forming on her legs but there was no bleeding. 

          “What was that?” You found your voice again when your brain began to process what had just happened. “A giant squid?”

          Percy could hear the oncoming panic attack in your frantic questions.

          “No, no, it was just seaweed. Your foot got caught in it,” he persuaded, willing the Mist to set in soon.

          “What are you talking about, you saw it too.” Percy could see the inner battle she was having as the Mist began to make her doubt herself. “You had a sword…”

          “A pocket knife I used to cut the seaweed–.”

          “I know what I saw!” She grabbed Percy by the shoulders, almost shaking him to get him to admit that she was correct, her eyes searching his desperately. Percy hated trying to convince her she was wrong but he knew it was for the best, a minute of confusion was better than a lifetime of knowing the truth. 

          “... And what did you see?” 

          “I… there was…” Her eyes clouded over with the Mist and her grip on Percy’s shoulders lessened. “Really strong seaweed.” 

          As the Mist drained the panic from her, she looked about ready to collapse.

          “I’m so tired,” she muttered and Percy let her rest her head on his shoulder. His hands returned to rubbing warmth back into her arms and they sat there in silence until her friends finally found their way to them. 

          There were a million questions directed at you and just as many “thank you”s directed at the boy. But you were bone tired and just wanted to be warm, dry, and asleep, so your friends gave up their interrogation. You had no idea how your body could be so sore from some seaweed but you were limping back to the car. 

          The one time you looked back, the boy was still standing there watching you. His dark hair was already dry, or had it ever been wet? You couldn’t recall seeing it wet but it must have been. Also, you were drifting in and out of consciousness at the time but you were sure that he had swam back to shore – while carrying you – in under a minute. 

          As you fell asleep in the car, you only thought of the strange boy who rescued you. And hoped you would see him again to exchange his jacket for his name.  

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️

Chapter 2:

You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.

“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.

You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.

You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.

“Open it” you hear faintly.

The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.

The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.

“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.

Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.

“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.

“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.

“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.

“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.

The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.

Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.

“What the hell is this?” You tremble.

“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.

“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.

“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.

Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.

“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.

Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.

“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.

You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.

“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.

“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.

“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.

“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.

“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.

You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.

“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.

You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.

Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.

“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”

You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.

“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”

Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.

“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.

“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.

“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.

He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.

“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.

You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.

“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.

He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.

“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”

“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.

You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.

“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”

You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.

“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.

Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.

“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.

“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.

“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.

You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?

His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.

“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[hotdamnhunnam]

Take All That Anger Out on Me

A/N: Here’s the first requested fic from the ‘Super Kinky’ list for my Dirty Little Secret series!!! (I’ll be alternating these super kinky fics with the ‘Somewhat Filthy’ fics.) **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, intense degradation, Jax is raging and seriously roughs you up ‘cause you beg him to let all his anger out (slaps your face, spits on your face and in your mouth) Request: Request from @rayslittlekitten (in comments under this post) + anon request

Word Count: ~2k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off, please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

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

It's past 2 A.M. when he finally gets home, storming into the living room, the front door swinging loud and hard behind him as he slams it closed.

You jump up off the couch immediately, tingling as you sense the red hot rage that's radiating from his body, from that drop-dead gorgeous head down to his toes. It fills you with the urge to rip off all his fucking clothes. Worship the sculpted muscles underneath his shirt and kutte... just eat him up... But you're not sure if Jax is in the mood to use you as his slut, right now when he is clearly furious about whatever happened on today's job. So you try to keep your mouth closed. Stay composed. 

But then he heads into the kitchen, and you can't resist the urge to ask a question, as you follow. "How'd it go...?"

"Don't ask," Jax grumbles in a low rasp, as he tosses his gun down onto the table, moving toward the fridge to grab himself a beer. He doesn't even bother looking back at you at all, let alone stop to say hello. Just moves across the room like you're not even here. "You don't wanna know."

Some twisted part of you loves it when he gets so rude. He’s in one of those moods, and it shows, and the one thing you do know... is just how the rest of the night's gonna go.

You don't wanna know, he had said. You protest, knowing that will provoke him best, bring all that smoldering rage to the surface and make him go mad.

And you want that. So bad.

He says it again, like he's reading the thoughts in your head. "Trust me, Y/N, you don't wanna fucking know."

"I do, though—"

"I said don't," your man repeats, casting a glance in your direction, for a split second, piercing blue glare burning your skin off with the heat. And then he turns his back to you again, muttering something as he grabs the drink he needs. You're not sure if he wanted you to hear it. But you did. "Stupid bitch."

... Well, shit. Those degrading words off of his lips just made your pussy twitch. You squirm and cross your arms over your tits, nipples suddenly stiff, through the thin cloth of your pajama top. His back is toward you at the moment so he doesn't really notice. You pretend to just be miffed, although the truth is that you’re thirsty for this man to fuck you up. "Okay, somebody's got his boxers in a twist..."

Jax takes a deep swig of his drink. Then sets it down, and slowly turns around. "You shut your mouth," he growls out loud, the dark edge in his tone depriving you of all ability to think. 

A sheen of liquor glistens on his lower lip; he flicks his tongue out, takes a lick and then bites down hard on the soft pink flesh. Surveys the skimpy PJs you’ve got on, the lacy fabric of the bottoms, hanging low upon your hips... his gaze descends down to your crotch before sliding across your chest... Then up your neck to linger on your mouth and make you melt, as if he knows you're desperate to use that dirty mouth to just untwist his boxers yourself. 

And damn are they in a tight twist. He talks down at you in a mean, menacing hiss. "Thought you'd know better than to get sassy like this when I'm already fucking pissed."

Every word he utters, in that husky voice of his, gets you all hot and bothered, hits you like a goddamn bomb exploding on your clit. Taking a few steps toward this sex god motherfucker, you uncross your arms and set your hands upon your hips. At this point all your dignity has been eclipsed, desire coming through, and you don't care if he can see your tits—you don't doubt it. In fact you want him to, if this suggestive shift in energy is signaling that he might want to do something about it. 

So you respond accordingly: with a provocative reply to make it clear that you are quite painfully horny. "Well, I guess I don't know shit. I'm just a stupid little bitch."

At that, a shadow of a smirk flickers across his luscious lips. "Oh, now you're asking for it..."

"Begging. Please," you answer, wet with need, unable to hold back the nasty slut inside of you that has to be released. Undoubtedly. "Take all that anger out on me."

Towering over you so tall and powerful, so big and strong and beautiful, those eyes so blue and hair so blonde... he bites his tongue and pauses just a fraction of a second. Ocean eyes exploring yours, to make sure that you know just what you're in for. That it's what you really want. That you're ready and eager for whatever rough and dirty sex Jax Teller has in store.

And of course you fucking are. Without wasting a second more, he lunges forward, like an animal pinning you to the floor—the kitchen table, let alone the bed or any better surface that may be available, is way too fucking far—hovering over you on all fours, groaning in sadistic pleasure as you happily surrender to his force, grinding his hips hard into yours, until you're moaning like a whore.

"This what you wanted, bitch?" he devilishly teases, razor edges of his teeth grazing your trembling bottom lip as he gets off on just how bad you fucking need this. Scratching your every last itch. His ruthless hands tear off your flimsy top, groping and pawing at your tits. "Yeah, 'course it is. You kinky little piece of shit."

"F-fuck...!" you scream, turned on beyond belief. His brutal dominance is everything you’ve ever dreamed; the filthy whore inside you instantly reacts, as he attacks. "Fuck, Jax..."

"Told you to shut your goddamn mouth," he grunts, one hand reaching to rip right through your panties so that he can plunge two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, pumping violently in and out. As his thumb flicks against your slick sensitive clit, he clamps his other hand across your gasping lips, your skin on fire beneath his fingertips. "So keep it shut. You filthy fucking slut."

Oh God, oh Goddd, he is so motherfucking hot. By now you are incapable of any other thought. The palm of his strong, calloused hand is so big that he easily smothers your whole snout and stifles your breathing. And you love the feeling, the heaven of staring up into his blazing blue gaze as he cuts off your airways, of sinking straight into the ultimate subspace... your mind is so blown you've forgotten your own fucking name.

Yet still you know you will remember his, always. Your world revolves around Jax Teller... you live only for his pleasure, now and forever, all day every day... you truly love it when he treats you like a worthless piece of shit. You have no shame.

Despite your consciousness being shattered to bits, somehow you're nonetheless aware that you just came.

"Ugh, look at you," he snarls, pulling his soaked fingers out of your pulsating slit, sticking them in your mouth to make you taste yourself just as he loves to do. Your juices have gushed out all over the floor, and his hands, and his pants, and the whole goddamn world. "Such a dirty girl. Squirting all over my kutte. Did I say you could cum, you dumb slut?"

No, he most definitely did not...

"You're disgusting," he snaps, pulling his hand off of your mouth at last, only to deal your cheek a sudden savage slap. Your inner slut is blissfully combusting. You're so weak and he's so strong. And then he holds your breathless mouth wide open with his thumbs... hocks up a thick wet wad of spit, and puckers up his slick pink lips, to shoot it straight onto your tongue. "Good-for-nothing scum."

By now you're so turned on that you've gone numb.

Jax spits on you again, and again, down your throat and all over your forehead and chin, humiliating you with laughter as he smacks your cheeks repeatedly and rubs his palm across your face to spread his spit around till every inch is fucking glazed. Sending you deeper into subspace. 

Your pussy convulses in shameless disgrace, clenching tight around nothing, set to come undone again just from the sheer power of his fucking perfection. From the friction of his raging hard erection, through his jeans against your bare skin, the sensation of pure sin, his rough hands and ravenous mouth dominating and degrading you in all possible ways.

"You like being my dirty little punching bag?" he taunts, as if he has to ask; it's obviously everything you want. To be a damn fucktoy for Jax. He swiftly flips you over then, all of a sudden, to begin smacking your ass. "You want this big fat dick deep in your cunt? Mmm, know you do, slut. Gonna have to beg for that."

You try to beg, instinctively spreading your legs, desperate for fifty shades of filthy sex, as you sprawl out for him facedown upon the ground. And yet given the state you're in right now, somehow. you can't manage a sound. 

He spanks your ass raw, as you squirm and struggle from beneath, gritting your teeth, striving to speak, wasted and weak, gaping your mouth so wide you'll probably break your fucking jaw. Still not a word comes out—nothing but choked whimpers and gasps for air, as his dominant fingers grab a fistful of your hair, lifting your head and tilting it toward him just to spit in your mouth, yet again and then slamming your head right back down. God, you love how he's letting his inner beast out and just going to town.

You quiver in bliss as you grovel in a puddle of his spit, the floor tiles pressed against your tits, high on the way he beats you like a low-down piece of shit. It's all you are to him at times like this. Overcome with arousal and unable to control yourself at all, your pussy aching as it drips, you start cumming again at the next words off of his lips. "You're such a stupid... fucking... bitch."

You squirt even harder this time around. Feels like you've drowned.

Jax deals your ass a final stinging spank, then twines his fingers in your messy hair again, forcing your head up off the ground with an aggressive yank. "Dumb fucking skank. See, I was gonna fuck that cunt tonight—stuff you full of this big dick until I cum inside, then fuck your throat and let you drink it all up—every goddamn drop, you dirty little slut... but you know what? You don't deserve it. Not when you've been such a pathetic piece of shit."

He blesses you with one more smack across the face, and one more shot of his sweet spit, laughing as you soak in the feel and the taste of such total disgrace.

Ughh, he is so fucking hot... he's an actual sex god... you think, as he throws you back down to the ground, letting you drown, lost in the pure filth of your perfectly satisfied kinks.

"So now you know what happens when I'm fucking pissed," Jax says, gloating at how you groan in bliss, letting your loving gaze worship his flawless face. "Next time you disobey, and piss me off like that, I'm gonna take out all my anger even harder on your sorry ass and make it hurt real bad. You got that, bitch?"

Oh God, fuck, yes. He's such a savage. To be honest, you just hope that is a promise...

And from the way he's smirking down at you like this, dirty and devilish—giving off such a dangerous dominance that's so fucking delicious—set to satisfy your deepest darkest wishes... you can tell that it most definitely is.

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

... Sooo that was super filthy and I know Jax is an absolute asshole in this lol but I hope there are some kinky bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

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

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[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

beau wakes up calm.

it’s a feeling so pervasive that she’s almost unsettled by it. their lives aren’t calm right now, between eiselcross and vess de rogna and now these eyes that keep popping up all over her and caleb. any calm she feels is usually immediately overshadowed by guilt for feeling it.

but beau can’t find it in her to feel guilty right now, not when the tower is quiet and there is a large, warm arm thrown protectively over her stomach. not when beau can feel the tickle of hot air at the back of her neck as yasha breathes, steady and restful in a way she doesn’t get to be when she’s awake. beau considers learning magic just so she can stop time and give yasha all the rest she deserves.

for now, she slowly rolls onto her back, taking care not to jostle yasha or slip out from under her secure embrace. she rolls over and doesn’t open her eyes until she’s on her back, the mirror directly above her, waiting.

it’s a sex mirror. of course it’s that, because caleb said as much when he told her about it, and god, does she owe him a week’s worth of uninterrupted research or whatever nerdy thing he wants in return. it’s a sex mirror and she and yasha have checked that off their list already, at least for the first time. second, fourth, something--they have definitely checked that off their list for a quantifiable number of times, it’s just that beau doesn’t quite know the number.

it’s a sex mirror but it’s also not because it’s more, because beau opens her eyes and can see the two of them as they are now--wrapped together, heavy and sticky in the illusory sunlight, sheets draped carelessly across their legs. they look good together. it isn’t the first time beau’s thought that, and with any luck (and a lot of hard work), it won’t be the last. but this is the first time that beau’s had the chance to really sink into that feeling, to see the reality of it and commit it to memory.

beau takes her time looking, glances over her own familiar body and the way it melts against one she can’t wait to know better. she should be a little cold perhaps, given that the sheets don’t go any higher than her hips and she hasn’t been wearing clothes for a good couple of hours. but yasha is so very there, so wide and curled around her in a way that seeks comfort as much as gives it. she’s on her side, the parts of her that aren’t touching beau sprawled greedily across the expanse of the bed. beau could spend hours looking at this reflection of them, of yasha and the curve of her muscles; the way her skin actually seems to create a glare in the early morning light. it’s so bright normally, even brighter now for the nearness of beau. time is fleeting and the tower will disappear soon and so beau is greedy--she looks at the angle of yasha’s legs, the way she twitches her toes on the one foot that hangs over the edge of the bed. beau looks at yasha’s back, the slope and strength of it; she remembers how solid and warm it felt under her fingers just a few hours ago. beau has known how sturdy yasha is since they met--has lusted over it since then, to be honest--but to feel it within her grasp, to be pressed against it and to have it soften and yield at her touch…

beau would learn magic to give yasha the peace she needs. she would learn art to memorialize this moment and the way they look together.

she watches yasha sleep, clocks the way her nose is pressed into the crook of beau’s neck. she almost cries at the drape of yasha’s arm across her chest--a few inches down and she’d have a handful of boob. as it is, beau’s heart is beating a rhythm right into yasha’s palm. 

beau turns her head away from yasha and clears her throat. “hey.” she clears it again when it becomes clear just how ragged it’s gotten. “dachsies, can you hear me? or do i have to yell.” she waits, straining to listen for the soft clink of a tiny bell or two. “frumpkin?” she tries again.

there is a faint ‘mrrp’ and the door to her bedroom opens slightly, just wide enough for a lithe fey cat to slip through. she can’t see frumpkin as he enters the room, but he’s there all of a sudden, jumping noiselessly and weightlessly on top of the bed.

he stares at her expectantly and beau wishes very much that caleb isn’t snooping, too.

frumpkin walks forward and sits next to her, the not-quite-fur of his tail swishing against her side. beau can’t help reaching out with the hand that isn’t trapped by yasha’s body and giving him a few scratches under his chin. he preens, closes his eyes tilts up to give her a better angle, and settles right back into his serious face when she pulls away.

“can you get the hot tub going again,” beau murmurs, “with some nice shampoos and shit? and maybe start working on a few dozen pancakes; i’m sure the others are gonna barge in here soon. make sure there’s a stack of spider ones for me and yash.”

frumpkin chirps again, butts his head against her chest as he jumps off the bed. beau reaches out to affectionately grab his tail, chuckling as it slips through her hands.

yasha is awake when beau turns back to look at her.

“hello,” yasha whispers. “good morning.” beau cuts her off with a kiss. “i love you.”

beau smiles at that, rolls over and presses herself firmly into yasha. she repositions yasha’s arm to wrap around her back, laughs when yasha drifts downward and squeezes her ass. beau kisses her again and again, slow and firm, catching any inch of lips or neck that she might have missed before. her hands roam without any destination, traipsing over the plane of yasha’s stomach, tickling at the dimples in her shoulders underneath which her wings sprout. beau knows how sensitive those spots are now, and she presses her fingers against them, syncs that up with another determined kiss. she doesn’t miss the way yasha’s tongue stutters against her own, the brief loss of contact she sacrifices to gasp, just a little.

yasha’s nails turn inwards and dig into beau’s hips, and beau returns the favor. 

beau reaches upward and grips yasha’s chin, marveling at the fact that her thumb seems to fit perfectly over the line of black beneath yasha’s lip. she pulls away and tickles the skin there, can’t resist one more kiss, especially when it elicits that special, breathy kind of laugh from yasha.

she makes sure yasha’s eyes are open and looking at her before she speaks.

“i love you, too,” beau says, her voice deeper and hoarser than usual, even for the morning. “last night was...i won’t ever forget it, yash.”

“me either.”

“might have been the best night of my life.”

“not if i have anything to say about it,” yasha winks. “i wish we didn’t have to leave.”

“yeah,” beau sighs--breathes, really, and she falls a little more in love with the way yasha doesn’t turn her face away from what is definitely a bad case of morning breath. “we’ve still got some time before we have to, though. the dogs are setting up the hot tub right now.”

yasha laughs, deep and rumbly and beau feels it in her chest. “before all of you i never would have understood that sentence.”

“right?”

“mhm. it is--a very fun thing to think about.”

yasha gently lifts a strand of hair from beau’s face and tucks it behind her ear. beau watches the entire time, so entranced by the size and safety of yasha’s hands, so determined to follow their path with a kiss, that she misses yasha’s other hand coming up to rest behind her legs, and beau lets out a very uncool yelp as yasha lifts her from the bed.

yasha drags them across the mattress, stands and gets herself situated, and it isn’t until they’re halfway to the floating pad that beau clocks exactly how she’s being carried.

yasha’s arms are confident beneath her shoulders and legs, and beau has looped her arms around yasha’s neck instinctually, and tears start to well up in this moment of realization.

“yasha…”

yasha stops walking, leans down and kisses her, and it isn’t because they’re naked that beau is glad no one can see them right now.

beau flutters through her feelings and rests her head against yasha’s chest, silently, as they float gently down to the hot tub. 

everything seems more muted in the daytime--the lionesses aren’t as imposing, the slides aren’t as tempting. but the steam and smells are just as inviting, and beau lets herself be carried into the water, settling into the warmth as yasha reaches for the soaps.

they both slip under the water; beau shakes her head and scratches at her scalp while she lingers, getting out the last of her restless energy. she pops back above the surface and drifts over to yasha, who has settled into the corner, her arms resting elegantly atop the stone edges. beau drops into yasha’s lap without a word, humming, content, as yasha’s arms slip back into the water and wrap around her body. yasha snakes her legs over the parts of beau that her arms can’t reach until beau is completely covered, completely enveloped in her love.

beau has always been attracted to women who could break her--big, strong women whose bigness and strength almost always equated to a good, long time in the bedroom. and yasha has that in spades--probably invented it--but it sure is fuckin’ something else to know that breaking is only half of it, that the flip side is that beau can be fully contained and sheltered in yasha’s arms. bigness is a comfort as much as it is a challenge. yasha uses her size to hold and cherish just as much as she uses it to fight.

beau sinks down so that her nose is just above the surface of the water, and tries her very best to pretend she isn’t crying. the effort is abandoned when she gets out of her head and realizes yasha is very carefully and very thoughtfully soaping up her hair with thick, gentle fingers.

beau sits up a bit and spits some water from her lips. “how come you’re so good at that?”

yasha takes a moment to think, tilts beau’s head back so she can rinse the shampoo out. “zuala and i didn’t have as much time together as i wanted,” she answers, “but we made sure to treasure every moment we were allowed.” she rubs her hands together, presumably spreading conditioner over them; beau can hear the slickness of it echo through the air. “i am able to follow a god because i had a wife once,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

god.

“well, fuck.” beau closes her eyes and tries to relax her shoulders as yasha’s hands knead through her hair again. “did you--i mean, i don’t want to overstep but--it was like this? all the time?”

yasha is quiet again, patient with her feelings and beau and the combination of the two. she slows her ministrations and rests her hands on the sides of beau’s face, her thumbs tickling at beau’s ears.

“the only similarity between the love i feel for zuala and the love i feel for you is that it is coming from me,” yasha finally says. “it was like this, yes--and it wasn’t like this at all. it was different because it was her. the whole world was different because it was her, you know?”

beau nods. “hope so,” she replies. “trying to, at least.”

yasha squeezes her cheeks, presses a kiss to the top of her soapy head. she gently pushes beau underwater and scrubs her hair clean with a little more force this time. beau lays back and watches, smiles as yasha scoops a hand underwater and brushes it over her lips.

beau sits back up feeling more refreshed and loved than she ever has in her whole life.

she swirls around to face yasha, lets the water guide her back to yasha’s lap. beau hooks her legs around yasha’s torso, lets the water hold her up as she drapes yasha’s hair over her shoulders.

“your braids could use a little touch-up,” she murmurs.

yasha, so sensitive and careful about her hair, simply nods and watches as beau lets it out, making tidy piles with the ties and ribbons on the ledge. yasha’s hair billows out once the last bunch is free; in the water, she looks beautiful and serene.

beau rests her hands on either side of yasha’s face, swipes her thumbs under yasha’s eyes as they kiss. “thank you,” she says, softly, “for loving me.”

yasha sighs and kisses her again. “you make it easy, beau. you don’t have to thank me.”

“i do,” beau insists. “for now, i do.”

she directs yasha away from the wall, takes her place in the shampoo corner. it’s a little different this time--beau can’t surround yasha quite as fully, and she has to wrap her legs around yasha and float to get a good angle to wash her hair. but yasha doesn’t complain, and she rests her arms on beau’s thighs and slides her hands over her legs, soothing and present. the water never cools off and the dogs are somewhere else, and for a few quiet moments, nothing in the world exists except this tub in this tower, hidden in a smelly, dirty tavern.

/

they’re clean and laughing in the kitchen by the time the rest of the party trickles in. beau can hear jester and veth speaking at cartoonishly loud volumes, announcing themselves just in case beau and yasha are doing anything worth being interrupted.

beau smiles, grabs a spider-less bite of pancake, and squeezes yasha’s hand.

“oh, here they are,” caduceus says as they file in. he takes a deep breath and smiles at the spread of food. “what a feast.”

he disappears, probably to make some tea, and beau looks at yasha for just a moment longer before the energy is too much to ignore.

she turns and almost bursts out laughing at the sight of everyone, lined up in front of the table, watching the two of them intently. veth’s eyes are as big as saucers and jester’s are shimmering, her hands clamped over her mouth. next to her, fjord is blushing and even caleb is sporting a smile, reluctant though it may look.

“hey,” beau says. she smiles casually and she means it.

“you’re so cute!!” jester shouts, flinging her hands away from her face. “oh my god, you guys, you have to tell me everything; i’m so happy for you even though we had to sleep in that super stinky room. please tell me it was worth it.”

beau laughs, winks as she tickles yasha’s hand. “totally worth it, jes,” she promises. she gets up from the table, kisses yasha’s knuckles as she does, and gestures for jester to take her seat. “talk to yasha for a sec, okay? i left you some spider-cakes.”

beau is too focused on grabbing caleb to notice the way jester scrunches her nose.

she doesn’t catch fjord’s eye as she leads caleb out of the room and she definitely doesn’t look anywhere near veth. she just drags her cranky wizard to a corner out of eyesight of any window in the kitchen and crosses her arms.

“if you’re about to tell me everything,” caleb says, “please don’t be offended when i say that i would be happier not to hear it.”

“what? no, gross. i mean, not gross-gross, but because--you, gross, right?” beau clears her throat, gently punches caleb’s shoulder to center herself. “i don’t...wanna tell you stuff. i just wanted to do this away from everyone else.”

caleb narrows his eyes. “do what?”

beau steps forward and hugs him. there’s no hesitation or coaching this time, just a strong press of her arms, and she stays there as long as it takes for him to hug back and mean it.

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “this was….very special to me.”

“of course,” caleb mutters. “you need only ask, beauregard.”

“yeah, you say that, but it’s like--i know it, now.” to her horror, beau sniffles.

“i am glad you had a good time.”

“the best.”

“you smell very nice. thank you for bathing before hugging me.”

“i got you, dude.”

“can you let go of me now?”

“yeah, sure.” beau steps back and gives him one last shoulder squeeze. 

caleb nods and squeezes back. he snaps his fingers and frumpkin is there, leaping onto his shoulder as they walk back toward the kitchen,

[tobiogf]

suna and tendou fighting over you

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬

i haven’t gotten high in a while and i kinda just really want to get high with these 2d boyfs

you felt a pair of hands on your waist and suddenly you were being pulled sideways into suna’s lap as tendou extended his hand holding the bong towards you. he held it out in front of your face, a lighter in his other hand.

“you need to take a strong pull, okay?”

you nodded, lowering your mouth into the glass pipe. suna’s hand pulled your hair back and held it for you while tendou lit the bowl. you immediately inhaled deeply, feeling smoke scratch the back of your throat without remorse.

“ohhh shit, that’s a good one,” suna murmured by your shoulder.

tendou grinned. “yeah, keep it going, y/n...” suna chuckled excitedly and you welcomed the challenge, feeling your lungs burn for air, tears blotting your vision as your head swam and your eyes rolled back dizzily. you popped your lips off the pipe, eyelids fluttering as tendou moved his face close to yours, parting his lips for a taste.

your jaw slackened slightly, sending swirls of smoke into the limited space between your mouths before tendou breathed in, sucking in most of the smoky strands. feeling delirious, you let your head fall back against suna’s chest and he dug his chin into your shoulder, making you giggle.

“you feeling okay?” he asked and you nodded, pulling your lips into a blissful smile.

“mission make (y/n) use a bong for once fucking success,” tendou slurred, pumping his fists and dancing around in a little circle. suna tugged the bong from your fingertips and took his own puff before passing it to the red-haired boy.

you slid out of suna’s lap and slumped against the couch, heart racing while goosebumps ran up the length of your arms. before you even realized it, music was blasting from suna’s speakers and tendou was holding the tv remote to his lips, rapping along to the lyrics. suna eyes were all red and squinty as he watched tendou’s performance, occasionally laughing when tendou messed up a lyric or ran out of breath to finish a verse.

“i’m so hungry,” you announced, your voice loud and smooth in your ears. a moment later, tendou was helping you to your feet, his hands holding yours and dancing behind you as the three of you made your way to the kitchen. suna had tore open a few packs of instant noodles and was now mixing in different spices while tendou sang feel good inc. loudly.

you bent over the counter, resting an elbow on the surface of the counter, mesmerized by the movements of suna wrists as he mixed the noodles. tendou put his hands on your sides and swayed his hips against yours.

“love forever, love is free, turned forever you and me,” he sang, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. you rolled your eyes, laughing happily as he sang to you this time.

“satori, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now,” suna grumbled from where he stood at the stove. tendou didn’t listen, still pushed you against the counter, still used a hand on your chin to keep you watching him.

once the noodles were ready, the three of you gathered around suna’s dining table, the only sound then was the music and tendou’s loud slurping. you were just focused on chewing the food before swallowing, sighing contently as the noodles filled you up. after eating, suna immediately searched for his controller and turned on his PlayStation, now dull eyes glued to the screen as he waited for a match.

tendou got comfortable on the couch, lazily spreading his legs and becoming an audience to suna’s match. you dropped next to the red-haired boy, head on his shoulder and not budging no matter how many times tendou shifted his body forward to yell at the screen.

“bro, switch your load out, you idiot,” tendou would say, pointing at the screen in frustration. “you’re never gonna get a good shot with that gun.”

suna wouldn’t listen. “i know what i’m doing, satori — just shut the fuck up and let me play.”

you were slightly tired but you found entertainment in tendou barking instructions at suna while suna repeatedly yelled at him to shut up.

“stop squirming, i’m trying to rest here,” you mumbled, pushing tendou back against the couch frame and dropping your head on his shoulder once more.

“make me stop squirming,” tendou responded.

you grinned, throwing your leg over his lap and climbing onto him. “there. now you can’t move.”

tendou jerked one of his legs forward and you fell unsuspectingly against his chest. “sorry... what were you saying about me not being able to move?” tendou teased, hands gripping your hips and looking down at you sitting right on top of his dick.

“eyes up here,” you said, putting a finger underneath tendou’s chin and tilting his head up to look at you. tendou pressed his lips together, his intense yet playful gaze at your eyes made you slightly bashful.

“don’t leave me out, what the fuck,” said suna from behind you, scrambling to his feet, eyes fixed to the screen as he gunned down a few opponents and then removed a hand from his controller to pull your head backwards and stare at you from above. his gaze dragged up to look at tendou, both boys giving each other knowing expressions.

“rin—”

you couldn’t finish your whisper, suna had already lowered his mouth onto yours, kissing you messily as his nose tickled your chin. he tossed his controller to the side, deepening the kiss with his tongue in your mouth. you couldn’t help letting out a muffled whimper as tendou lifted his hips slightly, grinding right up against you with his sturdy, bruising fingers holding your own hips in place.

suna released your lips, a trail of saliva connecting his mouth to yours, eyes watching you intently as yours fluttered with every rough rub of tendou’s jeans between your legs.

“fuck...” tendou choked out through gritted teeth. the edges of suna’s mouth twitched like he was going to laugh and you bit your bottom lip, giggling silently at tendou’s whispered sounds. “the fuck are you two laughing at?” he sighed, a hand coming up behind you to tug at your hair.

“mm, nothing,” you murmured, allowing suna to capture your lips once more. the angle was awkward but it didn’t take away from the heatedness with which he was kissing your lips. your neck had started to ache where it was bent backwards but suna had wrapped a hand around it, his thumb rubbing the back of your neck soothingly.

tendou buried his head against the exposed side of your neck, kissing and sucking, teeth grazing your skin and leaving occasional bites. his hands slid up to your sides and he bucked his hips up into yours, causing you to release a gasp into suna’s mouth, heart jumping as you felt extremely wet down there.

out of breath and heart beating rapidly, you managed to tear your hand away from where it was tangled in tendou’s hair before pushing suna back and falling breathlessly into tendou’s arms.

“what the fuck, rin... i couldn’t fucking breathe.”

“yeah, what the fuck, rin... you choking my little girl like that?” asked tendou, wrapping his arms around you and sliding you off of his lap before extending a foot and pushing suna backwards.

“i wasn’t choking her... i was just putting my hand on her neck...” suna mumbled. “it was a bad position — and when the fuck did she become your girl, huh?”

tendou didn’t answer, he just shifted his attention to you. “are you still high, (y/n)?” he asked, pulling your body underneath him. you smiled, dropping your head back.

“i’m fucking floating.”

“it’s cause of that bong pull,” suna grinned.

“good, cause i’m about to do something that’ll drive you fucking crazy,” tendou said, gently pulling your legs apart and looking at you for permission. suna was already on the other couch, watching you two attentively with a hand rubbing over the imprint of his cock in his sweatpants.

suddenly there was a loud beeping alarm that had you jolting upright, tendou’s fingers pulled away from the hem of your underwear and suna had jumped to his feet, staring horrified at the kitchen. large billows of smoke were hovering around the entrance of the kitchen and you swore you’d never sobered up so fast in your life.

tendou was the only one with the rationality left to go into the kitchen in order to see what had caused the smoke detector to go off. you and suna trailed hesitantly behind him as tendou extended a long arm and switched off the smoke detector, bringing his hands to his hips and staring at suna, who sucked in a sharp breath.

“suna?” said tendou as you peeked into the pot on the stove. the remaining noodles in there had been completely blackened and scorched and you couldn’t help as your jaw fell open. “did you forget to turn off the stove?”

the brown haired boy bit his lip, hand reaching up to itch the back of his head.

“yeah... i-i guess i did.”

i know they didn’t technically fight but just you bein bffs wit them and them teasing each other and u... idk it hits different

[anystalker707]

Pleasantly Surprising

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Fluff / Enemies to lovers Summary: (Y/n) meets a nice group of guys in a concert. Warning: Blood, but no violence or wounds description.

Requested on Wattpad

a/n: This one if for you blood kink bastards </3

(Y/p) = Your pronouns

Feeling the cold night air filling my lungs with a faint smell of grass is much better than the smoky and sweaty, heavy air present among the public that gets worse near the mosh pit. I lean back against the brick wall, feeling the cold surface through the thick jeans of my jacket, digging into my shoulder blades as I try to control my breathing, quietly watching the band leaving the stage to give place to another.

My throat feels dry, aching the slightest after I swallow around the sharp and cold breaths, so I look around for a stand to buy at least a soda, ankling over to the nearest one. The line isn't actually that long – thank hell –, but that doesn't prevent a random bastard from trying to cut in line.

"Hey, what in the fuck you think you're doing?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling them back by their collar and they just look at me with this sulky face, bottom lip sticking out and lip ring glowing lightly under the reduced lighting. "No cutting in!"

"Says who?" they retort bitterly. "What you gonna do about it?"

"Aw, bold, aren't we?" I raise an eyebrow, glancing down and... the motherfucker is wearing school clothes, lacking the tie and shirt untucked. Private school. "What are you? Not like the other kids? The line isn't even that long, stupid."

"Fuck off," they sigh, shrugging out of my grip and harshly fixing their clothes.

"Frank– Fuck, Frank, the hell, can't we leave you alone for a single second?" A random voice suddenly interrupts our interaction before a tall person approaches, a motherly and worried air lacing their gaze. They look from me to Frank before exhaling, raising an eyebrow, at which Frank shrugs. "I'm sorry for whatever Frank did, he–"

"Fuck, no, Ray!" Frank cuts them off, "you're not playing the good guy here! I was just trying to–"

"Trying to cut in the line, yeah, very nice of you, isn't it?" I roll my eyes, twisting my mouth. At least he isn't lying, but is he stupid or something? Why would he try to convince us what he was trying to do was alright?

It looks like Frank is going to argue for a second, but ends up just groaning through gritted teeth and looking away with a sigh and tense shoulders.

Ray doesn't look any amused, only observing Frank like who looks at a puzzle after having tried to solve it for weeks without success. They shake their head, turning to me instead. "I'm Ray, he/him, nice to meet you. Sorry for Frank, what he did is... unfortunately usual."

I observe him looking at him from head to toes. School uniform just like Frank's, tucked shirt, loose tie. "Hi. I'm (y/n), (y/p). And don't worry, I would've done the same," I breathe, looking away from the two to hand the person behind the counter the money after pointing to the drink I want.

"What?" Frank gasps. "You would've done the same and still acted all like that towards me?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Me doing it doesn't mean I like being affected by it." I grab the change, shoving it in my pocket then step aside for Frank and Ray, cracking the can open.

"Y'know–" Frank crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his nose in the air, "–my momma says that you should treat the others as you want to be–"

"Aw, honey, so you'd like me cutting in the line right in front of you? Shamelessly?" I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hold back a grin when his face gets bright red, hands balling into fists. Not gonna lie, it's kinda cute how he twists his mouth. Frank is about to curse when Ray is shoving a couple of cans into his hands – a sigh leaves his lips instead. "Two for each?" I question and sip on my drink.

Frank smirks, looking at me with humor. "Yeah, wanna watch me drink them at once?"

Ray rolls his eyes at Frank, shoving him out of the way after noticing there were people behind them. "We're actually with two other friends. Are you alone here? Do you wanna come along?" He smiles, ignoring Frank's complaints, so I opt for doing the same.

"I guess that'd be nice," I hum, shrugging. Otherwise, I'd be going home right now and Ray actually seems nice... I mean, Frank does too, but I'm not feeding his ego.

The other two stand against a brick wall when we find them, both quietly chatting to each other until seeing us approaching. The first one doesn't exactly react, more interested in the can Ray hands him, but the second, greasy punk, hums questioningly, straightening their posture as taking a good look at me almost like I did to Frank earlier. "And who are you?"

"(Y/n), (y/p)," I mutter, looking at them from over the rim of the can, taking a sip of my drink.

"Found lying in the trash when I approached," Frank adds, but doesn't seem so confident after I playfully shove him aside.

"Gerard, he/they," Gerard replies, eyes never averting away from mine. What is he, kind of a gang leader? Got a hell of an ego, though a bit differently from Frank – I'm noticing a pattern here, huh. "Mikey, he/him," he continues, nodding to the other guy.

I throw my empty can in a trashcan before leaning in towards Gerard. He tries to escape the touch, but he's against a wall, there's nowhere to go. How cute. "Belleville High," I say, finally able to make out what the small black letters embroidered on the chest area says, and step away, allowing Gerard to breathe. "Isn't it that private school? Catholic one? Wow, who'd know I'd find BH students here!"

"Stereotyping, are we?" Frank raises an eyebrow. It's impossible holding back a smile at him.

"No, never," I chuckle. "It's just a... rare occurrence. You came here right after school?"

"Not really." Ray shakes his head. "Just didn't have the opportunity to change. Good thing it's Friday, tho," he chuckles humorlessly and I nod in a silent agreement.

"And where do you study?" Frank takes a better look at my face. "If you study, that is."

I scoff, but don't reply just yet. Mikey is the most tidied up out of the four whereas Gerard has his tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, blazer all wrinkled. "Of course I study, dumbass!" I glare. "But I'm in the public school near the park. But I've seen you before." I nod towards Gerard. "Just don't know where."

Gerard's eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's not always that I see a greasy vampire looking around, so yeah."

A silence hovers between us for a moment, both of us staring at each other until he feigns unamusement, looking away – I smile with a stupid pride swelling in my chest.

The night ends with us exchanging numbers after a solid hour of joking around and throwing sarcastic insults at each other. Teasing Gerard was particularly fun because he often ran away from the whole joking or at least tried to and even Mikey laughed when it failed, though sometimes succeeding when Frank finally managed to get the spotlight on himself. Ray is sweet, despite being the perfect example for 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you.'

Gerard got my attention, to be honest.

Saturday and Sunday go by quite slowly and thankfully texting the guys every five minutes doesn't make it as depressing as usual. Texting Gerard isn't the same as texting Frank – who replies a text to each word I send him –, however. Gerard often replies with a word or a vague comment and guess what? I'm only more interested.

No Gerard manages to slip between my thoughts during school, but it ends up happening as soon as I step past the gates. Belleville high, isn't it? Shitty elite, but they don't really seem to be like that... let's see if that wasn't just great acting. That's not even a mile away from here. I look down the street, the direction opposite to where I would usually go. It won't hurt to say hi, right? Not to mention I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Belleville High's classes finish about ten minutes later compared to my school's, so I don't bother walking too fast, but not slow enough to let my palms get clammy or overthink anything. Amazing how I can feel like this about people I only met once. Okay, whatever, take a deep breath because I guess I know these curls.

"Look at who we have here!" I throw an arm around Frank's neck, interrupting whatever they were doing and attracting wide eyes towards me. Turns out I found them earlier than expected, hanging out in the park.

"Damn, are you everywhere?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me and presses his lips together, though never stepping away. Blood?

"Who knows?" I joke. "Also..." I trail off, only now taking a good look at them. "Man, what in the hell fucking happened to you guys? Seriously–" I yank a paper off Frank's back, sighing at the 'kick me' written across it and hand it to him, shaking my head. What fucking idiot did this? How the hell did they even get into a fight? It doesn't seem like they were fighting each other.

Frank groans poorly, wadding the paper into a ball and tossing it at the nearby trash can. He's got a few scratches above his eyebrows and blood trailing down the corner of his lips. Mikey and Gerard are probably in the best state out of the four – Gerard got blood trailing down his nose and same for Mikey, though on opposite sides and Mikey's cheek is smeared with blood. I can't say the same about Ray... I don't know how he's not even wincing with all that blood trailing down his face.

"Well," Mikey breathes, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "you can say that–"

"Why do you even want to know?" Gerard steps forward, hands clenched into fists by his sides. "You got nothing to do with it, okay?"

"Aw," I breathe a chuckle. So he wants things to happen like this? But does he have the nerve to keep it? I may not have known him for long, but the attitude is clearly foreign, unmatching. "And what, baby? You lost, didn't you? And you're a fucking sore loser!"

"I just don't see why you should know." He twists his mouth, looking at me uninterested, but it doesn't take long until he's looking at me with these eyes, irises barely seen, eyebrows scrunched close. "And don't talk to me like that! Maybe it would even be better if you fucked off and left us alone, don't you think?"

Man, he talks a lot. Too much. No wonder why he's in such a state. Maybe he'll shut up if I...

"Holy..." Frank trails off with a quiet chuckle and I'm certain Gerard would have glared at him if he wasn't processing what just happened.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray stare at me with wide eyes – as wide as Gerard's, but they're not as petrified as Gerard is, for sure, only with hesitant, unsure grins on their faces. I suppress the urge to laugh at Gerard, instead more focused on rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to get rid of the salty and metallic taste.

A quiet sound comes from Gerard as he finally moves, maybe a groan, not sounding really comfortable. He brings a hand up to his lips. The perfect trail of almost dry blood is now smudged, following the direction I licket it to, having the blood smeared across his chin and bottom lip. "Ugh, ugh, ugh," he groans, frantically cleaning his lips and chin with the back of his wrist, against the sleeve of his blazer. "What the fuck? You're gross!"

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Man, I wonder why I thought being an asshole could be solved."

"Eh, trust me, he isn't normally like this," Ray says with a shrug, looking at Gerard like if he was a chained angry dog even after receiving a glare.

No one gives Gerard's tantrum much attention as we soon sit down on the grass and change the subject before we can notice. Surprisingly, Gerard sits down next to me. Even more surprisingly, he leans closer at some point and whispers, "well, look at who's the vampire now."

Saying Gerard's words got stuck in my head would be an understatement. Maybe it's a nightmare, maybe it's not, but it does get me randomly blushing or stupidly grinning during random times of the day. Nonetheless, school the following day does help a bit with cleaning my head a little.

After a few hours of staring at blackboards, the setting changes to staring at records hanging on the walls and it's honestly better. Incoherent, loud chatter being changed to music of my choice is a lot better, even if I need to talk to a customer now and then.

"This is the place I told you about. I've only been here once, but it seems good," a voice says from the outside, but I don't look up from my homework.

"Never been here," someone else says. A pause follows then their footsteps sound clearer and I sigh, shoving my things on the space under the counter.

"Hello, good afternoon," I say automatically, holding back a groan at how my eraser insists on falling and grabbing it fast. "How can I help you?" I finally look up just to freeze. And the four have the same reaction, to be honest. "I knew I had seen you before," I say to Gerard.

"What a small world!" Frank approaches, immediately narrowing his eyes and throwing his nose in the air as looking over to me. "So you're not a rebel who only wanders around and goes to free concerts during the night and stalks us?" He raises an eyebrow, looking around the place, inspecting the shelves full of records and CDs.

"So you only got one set of clothes?" I mock, staring at his school uniform.

Frank exhales, shoulders dropping. "We just got here from school." He motions vaguely to his messenger bag and I nod, humming, not like it matters a lot.

While we talk, Ray and Mikey wander around, talking quietly to each other and sometimes taking a record in hand, but Gerard... he stands there awkwardly, observing Frank and I with a lost gaze. What is he doing? Trying to act all cool like last time? Or doesn't know how to react?

"Hello," I greet, which sounds more like a question. Frank turns around to look at him, apparently understanding Gerard as much as I do.

Gerard presses his lips together and steps forward, also leaning against the counter. "You didn't mention you work here."

"Didn't have a reason to." I shrug.

The corner of his lips twitch and he's holding eye contact until sighing. "Okay, whatever. Got anything new on Misfits or Pumpkins? Also, Bauhaus." He glances at me, black strands falling over his eyes for a moment before he's pulling them away. Cute.

"Of course." I grin, moving to the cabinets behind the counter.

Frank eventually darts off as I show Gerard the records and cassettes like he wanted. I glance around to make sure Frank is paying attention to whatever Mikey is telling him and Ray before I turn to Gerard again, grinning lightly. "Y'know," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows over the counter. "I've got passes for a bar concert tonight. Wanna come?"

"What do you mean by passes?" His eyes never avert from the records – he runs his fingers over them delicately, examining each of them closely.

"Each ticket was about ten dollars and they're sold out, but the store is sponsoring the event and I got free passes." I smirk, watching his eyebrows raise lightly. "I usually can get one person in with me. What do you say?"

He pauses. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I know the least." And also the one I'm interested in. "Pick you up at seven, what do you say?"

He sighs. "I'll text you my address."

.

"Wow, you're..." Gerard stares at me with a blank face, standing there and letting all the cold air get in. He rushes into the car, closing the door carefully.

"I'm...?" I raise an eyebrow, sinking my foot down on the gas, pulling away from the sidewalk.

"I don't know." Silence. "Not what I expected."

"Glad to know." I grin. "You're also not what I expected. You're never what I expect, to be honest..." He wasn't all open in the beginning, but also wasn't the asshole he was in the park – in his defence, at least, he had just gotten out of a fight, nerves still on edge. At the store, however, he seemed more like himself. "Also, you're looking good."

Gerard's eyes are surrounded by eyeliner and a red eyeshadow – definitely nothing I would see him in, but also nothing I'm disappointed about –, bringing out his paleness. And for the first time, he isn't wearing that stupid school uniform and fancy shoes are replaced by platform boots. A leather jacket clutches his shoulders, decorated with a few studs and patches, and covering a nice Slipknot shirt. And there are his jeans, fucking tight and I swear I hadn't noticed this guy got such a nice ass and, fucking hell, it's difficult not staring at his thighs flat on the seat, with a chain falling over one of them.

"Thank you," he mutters quietly. Even in the reduced lighting, I can see his cheeks gaining a red tone before he looks away.

The place is crowded, but not overly – which is why the tickets were even sold, at first place – and it's fun seeing Gerard's chin drop when he looks at the sign of the place. To simplify, everyone is either always wanting to play in this bar or come watch someone play and the tickets are not only always sold in small quantities, but also expensive.

"Let's go," I chuckle after having spent a good moment observing Gerard.

We jog across the street, towards the entrance, just straight away skipping the whole line. The guy in charge of letting people in looks at us indifferently, in a silent question, muscles clear under the tight staff shirt. Even if there's no visible difference in his expression, he does relax a bit after I show him my pass and steps aside to let us in.

"Wow," Gerard mutters, almost inaudibly.

"You like it?" I ask as we walk through the people. No answer comes. He stayed back, of course; the boy is kinda shy and hesitant, after all. "C'mon!" I take a hold of his hand to pull him with me until we're in the bar area, which's much calmer. He stands there for a moment, looking around, until I point at one of the stools, sitting down on the one beside it.

Gerard shifts on his seat, hands resting on his lap and clenched into fists. He observes everything with wide eyes and I can't bring myself to avert my attention away from him. He's beautiful.

When the band starts playing, however, the atmosphere starts changing. It's a classic punk band – the kind of people you'd see around in skate lanes, spraying anarchist messages on a building's wall or behind a McDonald's counter – and the music is good, nonetheless, raw and emotional and demanding. Great to dance to.

Gerard is shy, as already stated – what makes me wonder how he even agreed on coming –, taking a good time to actually stand up from the stool and join me.

His hand is warm under mine, maybe not as warm as his cheeks seem to be. I had taken it in mine to pull him up from the stool, only, but he didn't let go and... oh well. Aren't you interesting, Gerard? I grin to myself and take his other hand to pull him to dance with me; that if you consider moving around to the rhythm of the song some kind of dance, but Gerard doesn't complain.

I'm not sure how much time goes by – I only question myself about that once the band is saying good night, breathing audibly as they get off the stage. The live music is replaced by a momentary incoherent chatter when loud music fills the place again, this time coming from the speakers. Gerard and I are out of breath when averting our attention from the stage to each other. My arms feel a bit sore after all of that, almost the opposite to my numb legs.

"Wanna grab a drink?" I nod towards the bar. "We can go to the alley to take a breath, then."

"Sounds good."

The non-alcoholic drinks are as cold as the night air, suddenly making it even more obvious how much we jumped around to the band's sound. We lean against the wall opposite to the side of the bar and I look at Gerard, watching his chest rise and fall fast, only coming to a longer pause when he brings the glass to his lips. He observes something above us, maybe the sky, but I don't care.

"Your nose is bleeding again." I suddenly note, seeing the dark red trail now almost reaching his upper lip. Not a surprise. He hurt his nose not much over a day ago and all the jumping must have opened the wound.

"Fuck." Gerard brings a hand to his nose and sighs when seeing the red stain on his fingers; I chuckle softly, halfheartedly. "What? You wanna lick it again?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me. He apparently opts for not ruining the sleeve of his leather jacket, regarding it more than his school blazer.

I roll my eyes, smiling helplessly. "Well, if you'd like me to," I decide to tease back, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Ah, you wouldn't dare!" He chuckles, blood staining his lips according to how he talks.

"You think so, honey?" I raise an eyebrow. A few stutters come from him, but I just grab his glass and set it aside with mine, on the ground, before stepping towards him. "Tell me, why are you always so... bold around me? It's clear it's not part of you, as Ray even said." I suppress a humorous chuckle at how he frantically backs away against the wall, having nowhere to go. This brings me memories. "Maybe it has a specific reason?"

Gerard's eyes are wide, lips twitching, though no word ever comes through and his expression changes instantly once I get a hold of his hips and pin him to the wall. Feeling the heat coming from his cheeks is almost possible and all that resistance is gone, tendering into compliance and shyness.

"Look at you, Gerard," I mutter, rubbing circles into his hips as leaning in. "How surprising can you be?"

Having Gerard only letting out a quiet whine in response as his hands rest hesitantly over my shoulders make my heart flutter in my chest. I finally lean in, pressing my lips to Gerard's; he returns the kiss right away, lips sliding against mine easily.

And there it is; the rich metallic taste of Gerard's blood. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, snatching a hum from him, which turns into a whining-gasp once my teeth sink into it slightly.

His hands tighten around my shoulders, I grip harder onto his hips in consequence and he's sent relaxing back against the wall. He never had control over the kiss, but he's suddenly just giving up on the power at once with a quiet sound, slowly wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me closer and I gladly deepen the kiss.

"Wow, love," I breathe as soon as we part the kiss, lungs screaming for air. Gerard doesn't reply verbally, with his lips brushing lightly against mine and, by now, the blood is starting to get sticky, on its way to drying, also on my lips.

"I hope we can go out more often," he mutters shyly, not long before burying his face in the crook of my neck.

[whentommymetalfie]

Home to you -chapter 5

-Closer-

Prologue//1//2//3/4

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Tommy and Alfie both want to take things further. But it turns out, things might be more complicated than simply wanting. 

Warnings: mental instability, hallucinations, self harm, self-hatred, ptsd, panic attacks, disordered eating

Content note: sexual content

Wordcount: 3,7

Tommy wakes up with led in his veins, head too heavy to lift from the pillow and confused about his whereabouts. The warmth of a hand on top of his head tells him he’s not alone, at least. It prompts him to squeeze his eyes open just a fraction to observe the world through his lashes.  Alfie’s sat next to him, paper in his lap and with his glasses balancing low on his nose as he thumbs the pages with one hand, combing gently through Tommy’s hair with the other. Tommy stays completely still. Wants to stay in this moment, sink back into sleep and hide from the memories of the past night before they fully catch up with him. His right palm throbs dully and he clutches it against his chest, willing away the feeling of glass digging into fragile skin. He squeezes his eyes shut. Wants to stay in the warm safety of here and now, with Alfie, in bed, with Alfie’s fingers in his hair. Far away from the coppery smell of blood and the voices echoing between the tiles.

“It’s so easy, Tom, so easy, and then you’ll get to rest.”

“It’ll never be anything more than this. What do you have to offer him? Look at you.”

and he looks and looks until he can’t bear it anymore until it’s all too much and-

“Tommy?” Alfie scratches lightly at the nape of his neck. “You awake?”

He nods, because he needs Alfie to talk, bring him out of the darkness. Like last night.

Alfie keeps stroking his hair.

“You gonna open those pretty eyes and greet the day and your companion any time soon, eh? Nearly lunchtime innit.”

He can hear in his voice that he’s smiling. And he wants to see that, so he opens one eye to peer up at Alfie. Who is indeed smiling down at him. Tommy curls up impossibly closer, as if he could fully melt into him, face pressed into his soft side. Alfie flinches when his nose digs into a ticklish spot and lets out an indignant snort, but then continues petting him with a fond chuckle.

“Just a little kitten, aren’t you, petal? Yeah. Bet you’ll start purring one of these days.”

Tommy ignores the comment and drags in Alfie’s familiar scent into his nose.  

“How’re your hands feeling?” Alfie asks. “You in much pain”

“It’s not too bad,” he mutters into his shirt.

With an unconvinced hum, Alfie takes his hand gently and presses his lips against the back, just softly, continuing over his knuckles, up his fingers and down the inside of them, featherlight over his bandaged palm, until he can kiss the inside of his wrist. Which sends a thrill of pleasure up Tommy’s spine.

Then, Alfie leans down and kisses him. It brings out different memories altogether from last night. Alfie kissed him then too. Lifted him up onto a counter and kissed him until his head was swimming. He sinks into that feeling now, happily following where Alfie leads.

The steps approaching outside makes Tommy pull away, but Esther just passes. He looks towards the door, unable to relax. Esther has certainly seen him in more compromising positions. But still---

Taking his chin lightly in hand, Alfie turns him away from the door and smiles again before pressing another kiss against his lips.

When the steps approach a second time, this time accompanied by low humming, Alfie relents.

“How about we pick this up later tonight,” he whispers into the hot air between them. “When we know we won’t be disturbed. And I can take care of you good and proper.”

The words light a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, his chest, and fluttering and fragile as it may be, it’s definitely real. So much so that Tommy finds his lips twitching into a smile as he whispers, “Is that a promise?”

Alfie chuckles, low and dark and the way his eyes light up makes Tommy wish he could find more enticing things to say, anything to keep that expression on his face always.

“Indeed it is, love.”

…

The day passes impossibly slowly. Alfie helps him stick to the usual routine, the firm schedule of eating, walking, resting, doing a crossword or two, followed by the usual afternoon nap. The one Tommy swears he doesn’t need but still always ends up taking sometime in the afternoon, cuddled up against Alfie’s chest in front of the fire as he reads, when the ever present weariness overcomes him.

It’s easy enough to fall into the familiar pattern, even if he can’t stop counting the hours until sundown, for once feeling something other than dread at the thought of going to bed. Everything makes him think of it: Alfie’s hands lingering after he’s helped him with his coat. The soft brushing of lips against his forehead as he dozes off in the afternoon. The firm warmth of an arm around his waist during the walk. Little things that remind him. He clings to those, to keep his head quiet. Tell the voices that no, Alfie doesn’t find him repulsive, Alfie likes touching him, Alfie doesn’t look at him and see something ugly and broken. It helps a little. Even if they’re not silent for long.

…

Despite what happened last night, Alfie lets Tommy take a bath on his own, that evening. Not without fussing first, and not with the door locked. And as Tommy reclines against the cool porcelain, all the anticipation that’s been building throughout the day seems to vibrate through him. Despite the heat of the water he trembles, and he tries to force himself to relax without much success. He glances towards the mirror. Where it used to hang, at least, the empty space above the sink. The bones inside of him seem to poke through his skin, bruising his insides and he can’t find a comfortable position. He wishes he could lay down completely, sink underneath the surface until the water makes him weightless and takes the pressure from his bones, but the mere thought of being under the surface makes his throat constrict in panic. Instead he sits up. Draws his legs towards his chest and stares at his bruised knees. Scratches hard over the place where the bone sits too close to the skin.

Alfie asked, last night, if he’d been trying to hurt himself. More than you already had, that’s what he said. Tommy doesn’t know. If Alfie hadn’t showed up when he did, to shield him from the ghosts and pry away the sharp piece of glass from his hand… he doesn’t know what would’ve happened.

The thought scares him enough to stop scratching at his knee and put his legs back down, hiding the thin trail of blood left by his nail.

Eventually he climbs out of the cooling bathwater. It’s a small mercy, not seeing his reflection. But it’s not enough. And they still remind him, even when he can’t see himself, they tell him, won’t let him forget-

He dries himself off and puts on the large flannel shirt, burying himself in the safe scent and the soft warm fabric. Pulls his underwear on and makes sure the long sleeves on the shirt cover his hands, cover as much of him as possible.

When he emerges from the bathroom on legs that still feel unsteady, Alfie is sat on the bed, glasses in place and with a book on his lap. The scene exudes safety and familiarity. He looks up when the door swings shut. Something dark and hungry seeps into his gaze, and it makes Tommy stop in his tracks, a shiver running down his spine under the intensity. He must be looking like a deer in headlights. Feels like one, at least, frozen and helpless.  

“Come here, love,” Alfie says, beckoning him over with an outstretched hand. The hand is unnecessary because the command in his voice is enough to physically pull Tommy towards him. The book lies forgotten on the bed and when he’s close enough, Alfie grabs him by the waist and pulls him down onto his lap and into a kiss. It’s surprisingly gentle at first, but Tommy eagerly parts his lips and soon it becomes deeper, hungrier. Alfie kisses him like no one’s ever kissed him before. So self-assured and firm, taking the lead and making him follow. And he gives into it completely, desperate for more.

In a swift movement, Alfie spins them around, leaving Tommy laid out under him on the mattress, legs around his waist. A surge of heat rushes into the pit of his stomach, making his hips buck up against Alfie’s solid frame. Already gasping and aching for it.

“If you want me to stop or slow down, you just let me know, alright, pet?” Alfie says, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “Yeah? Just say the word. Or give me a poke in the shoulder if that’s too difficult. But other than that all you need to do is relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Tommy nods and sinks into the feeling of relief. Alfie’s got this. Alfie knows what he’s doing, even if Tommy himself suddenly feels like a blushing virgin all over again. Alfie flashes him a grin and plants a quick kiss on his nose. “Alright then.”

And take care of him, he does. Begins by kissing him on every inch of bare skin he can reach, the sharp edge of his cheekbone, his temple, trailing his lips down his jaw, stopping right at where his pulse throbs to scratch his teeth gently against the skin. It sends a pleasant shiver down his spine and Alfie must be able to tell because he lingers on the spot, sucking a mark onto the skin before moving further, down to where his collarbones peak above the shirt. His hands meanwhile are stroking down his sides, his hips and thighs, leaving burning trails behind. Lighting a dizzying arousal that collects in the pit of his stomach, burning hot and all consuming.

Tommy’s own hands are buried in the back of Alfie’s shirt. Eventually he works up the courage to tug it up towards his shoulders. Alfie sits back between his legs. Pulls the shirt off and smiles down at Tommy when he reaches out to touch, running his hands down his hairy chest, solid muscle and the swell of his stomach. If he could, he would’ve told him, how beautiful he is, how much he wants him, how much he wants this. Instead he pulls him closer, tries to show him. Needs to have that powerful body fully pressed against him, needs all of him at once-

Alfie is so warm and heavy on top of him when he kisses him again, cock hard and straining against his boxers, pressing against Tommy’s hip. Tommy wraps his arms tight, tight around his chest and just clings to him while Alfie’s tongue laps against the roof of his mouth, entwining with his own, setting the pace. He drinks in the kisses eagerly, desperately wanting more, more- His hips buck, searching for friction any way they can.

When Alfie’s hand finally trails up the inside of his shirt, tension ripples through his muscles like icy water. The hand stops and Alfie raises both eyebrows in a silent question. One Tommy knew would come but still doesn’t know how to respond to.

Alfie’s seen him in less clothes before. But so many of those times he was too far gone to even reflect on it. Now he’s painfully aware of his own body again. And Alfie is right, he doesn’t believe him when he says he’s beautiful. Only thinks of that scrawny figure in the reflection. He hides his face against Alfie’s chest. Alfie strokes his side gently. Each time a finger dips into the hollow spots between the ribs he feels his stomach turns into knots.

How can he let Alfie see, when he knows what he’s become?

“How could anyone want you? Look at you-“

Look at you

Alfie wouldn’t

Look at you

“There must be something you can do?” Lizzie’s voice is sharp and demanding as she speaks to the shadows looming over his bed. “Look at him, he’s wasting away.”

Wasting away locked away forgotten in this room

“The only option is to feed him more often, but-“

They keep talking over him and he wonders if he’s really here at all

“-considering his aversion to it that might have a negative effect on his wellbeing overall, I’m afraid.”

In this room

Where the door is always closed

And no one touches him except the men in the white shirts with their tubes and their cold hands and all the dark figures who try to keep him still and he’s wasting away nothing but a black hole

Cold mud

Pushing the air from his chest filling all the empty crevices-

No one can stand touching him.

“Shh, treacle, ‘s okay.” Alfie’s voice emerges from the chorus of others, whispered against his ear. “You’re beautiful. Let me show you. Let me take care of you”

He desperately tries to ignore the snide remarks that follow Alfie’s softly spoken words, things that echo in his own head, that’s all, not real. This is real, Alfie’s voice, Alfie’s body against his-

Alfie kisses him but he can’t feel it, the scratch of his beard or the soft press of lips against his.

He tears himself away, presses his face into his chest again as he struggles to breathe. Coughs to get the mud out, has to get it out, out pushes harder into the firm surface to find an anchor, it’s cold against his forehead, cold wet dirt and the smell of earth and

blood splitting pain and wetness trickling slowly down his face

splutters and coughs and chokes as bits of mud hack up his throat.

“God, there’s nothing there Tommy! Will you just fucking listen to me?” Lizzie’s fingers can reach all the way around his wrists. “Frances, get in here!”

“Fuck-“ the weight on top of him shifts but he still can’t breathe- “Tommy?”

he struggles uselessly against the hands.  

Until they disappear and footsteps echo across the floor, doors slamming, new hands,  shushing, dark figures and faces he doesn’t recognize.

The room floods with warm light and Alfie’s face swims into view. He cradles his face, holds it still, but he can’t feel it, can’t feel the heat against his skin-  

“It’s alright, sweetheart, breathe with me, in and out- I’ve got you.”  

He’s moved, pulled closer, ear pressed against Alfie’s chest, he listens to his breaths, the steady beating of his heart. In and out. In and out, the familiar mantra.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Alfie’s got him, he’s safe. Alfie’s got him, and he’s safe, Alfie- he clings to the words with every stuttering in and exhale, until feeling slowly seeps back into his limbs again, he can feel the warmth of Alfie’s skin, the firm hold of his arms encircling his waist and cradling his head against his chest. He winces when he comes back to himself enough to remember why they’re in bed together.

“I’m s-sorry,” he chokes out. His teeth clatter together so hard that getting any words out at all is a struggle. “I don’t know why- why this is happening,”

“Shh, fuckin’ nonsense that is. Apologizing. Nothing but a bad habit. If you’re not ready, we’ll take it slower. Simple as that, eh?  

He grasps desperately at Alfie, shaking fingers against firm muscle.

“No, no, I want to- I-“  

“Shh, love, just you focus on breathing and leave the talking to me. Sometimes your head knows it’s wants something but the rest can’t quite keep up,” Alfie says and rocks him slowly in his arms. “The opposite ‘s true too, I reckon. But I’m nothing if not persistent, so I promise we’ll figure it out. Don’t you worry your pretty little head ‘bout it.”  

He presses his nose into the crook of Alfie’s neck and sinks into his embrace.

Alfie begins rubbing his back slowly. The hand moves up along his waist, outside of the shirt this time. He stays in one place. Rubbing warm circles into the skin. Tommy forgets to breathe.

“Relax, pet. ‘s nothing dangerous, this. I’m keeping it right here, see? Does that feel okay?”

The thin barrier the shirt provides helps somewhat. He nods. And as he gets used to the sensation the worst of the terror it caused before fades, at least enough for him to relax.

“There you go. Doing wonderfully, aren’t you?” Alfie moves his hand further down to his waist, caresses all the way to his hipbone and up again. Over and over. “Yeah, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Just relax. It’s all fine.”

And as the adrenaline seeps out of his veins, his eyelids become heavy. Alfie keeps stroking him, lingering in each spot for a long time. And before he can even feel himself slipping, he’s asleep.

…

For once it’s not a nightmare that wakes him, but Alfie tossing and turning in bed next to him. By now Tommy’s instincts have him reaching for Alfie already in his sleep, so once he drags himself out of it he’s already firmly pressed against him, face buried in the crook of his neck and one arm wrapped around his bare chest. He drags his scent into his nose. Reassures himself that he’s safe. Not alone. Never alone again. And he’s already sinking back into sleep when Alfie lets out a grunt into his hair and presses closer. He’s hard, the outline of his cock pressing into Tommy’s thigh, thick and straining against his boxers. The feeling sends a sharp spike of arousal to the pit of his stomach. He lies frozen, barely daring to breathe. Alfie’s arm is tight around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed against him. His hips roll forward, making Tommy’s heart jump. Heat floods through him, pooling in his groin, and he presses his thigh harder against Alfie, can’t resist. Fuck, he’s so big. It’s a thing he never knew he’d find so arousing: the feeling of a big, hard cock pressing into him. Now, the reaction is so strong it almost frightens him.

Alfie’s arm tightens around his waist and another moan escapes him, hot and raspy against Tommy’s ear. His own cock quickly becomes achingly hard and he swallows down the urge to shove a hand down his shorts and touch himself. Or turn around. Rub himself against Alfie until- oh fuck-

Alfie suddenly jolts awake, unsuccessfully attempting to untangle himself from both the blankets and his own grip around Tommy all at once. He looks blearily around the room before setting his eyes on him, half closed and with a confused crease between his eyebrows.

“Fuck, sorry ‘bout that, love” he slurs. Gestures awkwardly downwards as he relaxes back against the pillows. “Don’t pay any attention to it-“

He clears his throat and once again shifts to pull away. Tommy kisses him. Surges forward and crashes his lips against Alfie’s, clumsy with need, tongues and teeth clashing as Alfie kisses him back with equal fervor. He tugs at the thick arm around his waist and Alfie rolls them over, settling his entire weight on top of him. Tommy spreads his legs, grinds up against him and whimpering at the feeling.

Alfie stills for only a second, but he squeezes his thighs tighter around his hips.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers against his lips and with a growl, Alfie thrusts forward, rubbing his stiff cock against Tommy’s. He moans, open mouthed and desperate against Alfie’s lips.

Then they’re moving frantically together, Alfie’s hands digging into his arse to push him closer, grinding down against him, hard and unforgiving. Pinning him against the mattress with his entire weight. Tommy rolls his hips, heels digging into the backs of Alfie’s thighs, desperately chasing friction and fuck, fuck, he’s so close already- it’s all too much, and not enough, Alfie’s cock, hard and thick under the thin fabric of his boxers, the soft ,heavy press of his stomach, he writhes against the heat and the firm pressure of muscle and flesh, close- so fucking close now-

“Oh, oh Alfie-“ he keens and the release washes over him in sharp waves of pleasure, quick and relentless and absolutely brutal, he’s crying out, voice cracking into sobs and Alfie doesn’t stop moving, chasing his own pleasure against his over sensitized cock.

“Fuck, Tommy-“ he groans into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck, that’s so good, love. Fucking hell-“  his hips push harder and faster until they stutter. He pushes his face into the crock of Tommy’s neck, hands painfully tight around his arse as he comes, shuddering through his release. Then he collapses on top of him, breath hot against his neck.      

A warm stillness settles in the room, where only their breaths are heard. Tommy’s head is full of cotton, muffling all the noise, softening it. Eventually Alfie raises himself up on his elbows and lets out a chuckle.

“Fucking hell, love. Not exactly how I’d pictured it, bedding you for the first time. Thought’ I’d be more of a gentleman about it.” He brushes away a sweaty lock of hair from Tommy’s brow and smiles. “But I’ve always believed in doing what comes naturally. I promise to take better care of you in the future. Do it properly.”

Tommy knows he’s blushing and the cotton makes it impossible to come up with any words. Alfie rolls over onto his side to tuck him against his chest. He’s shivering for some reason.

“But perhaps some drowsy, half-asleep rutting was just what we needed, eh? Just to blow off some steam. And can I just say that you make for quite a sight when you- Fuck, sweetheart, you’re shaking.”

Alfie rubs his back and pulls the blankets up higher around him, tucking them around his face and wherever he can reach.

“You alright, love?”

Tommy hums, even if his teeth clatter together and every breath hacks its way up his throat. Because Alfie is here and Alfie holds him and keeps him safe.

And he’s alright. At least in that moment.

[moony-to-ur-pads]

UNDER WATER

Regulus Black was drowning.

He gasped for air and found himself sucking in lungfuls of putrid, thick liquid—tar-like as it entered his lungs, threatening to smother him.

He stuck a hand out, and found stone. Something hard, something to keep him here, to ground him. It held him above the surface and he gripped onto it, fingernails scratching against it in their search for purchase.

It wasn’t enough. He was slipping under. His head beneath the surface, he didn’t have the energy to fight his way back up. Regulus sank—

“Reggie.”

The voice.

“Reggie, you’re okay.”

It was like a rope thrown out to him, a hand thrust beneath the surface. Regulus scrambled, reaching out for it.

He found it. Fistfuls of cloth between his fingers. Arms wrapped around him, pulling him in. Regulus hung onto them, let them pull him above the surface—and shaky, trembling, into their embrace.

Regulus buried his face against his brother’s chest.

“You’re okay,” Sirius whispered.

At first, he couldn’t speak.

He found the words, but not the breath, and he hung there gasping like a mermaid out of water. It took him a while to force anything out. “Mother, she—”

“Doesn’t know a thing. About your part in this, at least. Thinks I forced you to come with me—a hostage situation type thing, you know?”

“But she yelled at you,” Regulus mumbled, voice muffled by Sirius’ clothes. “She was furious.”

Sirius always took the blame. Always.

And, as always, he laughed, as if it hardly mattered. Regulus pulled his head off his chest, looked up at his brother’s face.

Unworried, carefree. A grin, ear-to-ear. So obnoxiously, pig-headed-ly reckless.

“Reggie, you know I don’t give a crap. I gave all my craps away years ago, I’m crap-broke.”

A lame joke. Regulus have a lame chuckle, choking on tears.

Sirius’ eyes scanned his face. They were unrevealing, as ever, their emotion hidden behind a carelessly smiling mask.

But Sirius was looking for something on Regulus, that much he could tell—his brother’s eyes were narrowed, his eyebrows creased. Was it worry? Perhaps.

“I’m fine, Sirius,” Regulus mumbled. “Just upset. This was my fault.”

“No. It wasn’t. This was as much my fault as it was yours. But what’s the point of your birthday falling in summer break if we don’t celebrate it?”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t’ve suggested the movies. I knew mother would have hated it.”

“Ah, well,” Sirius winked, “Even posh tossers like you deserve a little fun from time to time.”

Regulus relaxed his grip on Sirius and they pulled apart.

He felt shaky, tired. But here was air around him—cool, and breathable. Here was solid ground beneath his feet. Here was Sirius, the hand that pulled him up above the surface.

“You don’t always have to take the fall for everything, you know?” Regulus said, with a little sigh. “You could leave some for the rest of us.”

“I’m your older brother, Reggie. It’s in the job description—being there for you.”

A protector—a shield against their mother, a lifebuoy that kept Regulus above the water. That was what Sirius had always been.

It was different now. It had been different for a while.

…

In the distance, screams.

Above the water, Regulus thought, dimly. That was what it sounded like—muffled and other-worldly.

He was sucking in air—trying to, but he couldn’t. He was surrounded by something viscous and tar-like, the world dimming to darkness as its black veil fell.

He was drowning.

Regulus sunk—

To the floor. He hit carpet and crawled against the wall, drawing his legs to his chest. Regulus buried his face against his knees, feeling the tears on his cheeks sink into his trousers, plastering the cloth to his knees.

“I don’t even know why I stayed this fucking long!” Sirius howled.

“Give me your wand, Sirius. And don’t you dare use it.”

Their mother’s voice was cold, calm, barely raised above a whisper—and yet somehow it carried through the entire house.

“You know—” Sirius’ voice was battling against sobs. “The Potters, they don’t care. They love me. I’m better off there. I can’t stay here. I won’t!”

Regulus’ lungs were burning. His heart was a thudding metronome, beating in his ears. He pulled at his hair and took a shaky gasp, forcing the thick tar down his throat, forcing himself to breathe and hold it down.

“Get away from me!” A shriek, jagged around the edges, ripped from his brother’s throat. A thud. A silence.

Regulus almost hoped that it was over.

Then shouting again.

This time was different. This fight, it was worse than the others, worse than it had ever been.

But even still, Regulus half-expected Sirius to come climbing up the stairs at any moment. Just as he’d always done, every other time—teary-faced from shouting, perhaps; limping a little and exhausted, maybe. But always there, always appearing on the landing. Always there.

Whatever condition Sirius was in, however much she’d pressed him and railed at him and hurt him, every time he came stumbling up those stairs, he never forgot Reggie. Sirius would never forget to pull him into his arms, to hold him above the surface, to let his brother breathe and find his feet before he let go.

It was selfish that Regulus had come to need those moments, to still need it as he listened to Sirius yelling in the downstairs parlour. But he’d convinced himself that, maybe, those hugs—the gold star amongst their limited interactions these days—were as much a need for Sirius as they were for him. That Regulus held him up above the water, just as Sirius did him.

Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t.

Regulus couldn’t tell. He had never really gotten the hang of reading the array of flickering lights that turned on and off behind his older brother’s eyes.

A flash of red against the wall of the stairway.

Screams, howls—Regulus thought of a dying dog.

Another flash of red, another scream.

Regulus pressed his hands to his ears and closed his eyes, praying for it to be over. Praying for a hand thrust beneath the surface, someone to pull him out.

No one came to save him.

At some point, he heard a door slam.

He’s not coming back, Regulus thought. Somehow, he knew it was true.

So Regulus sank. Alone.

…

Snivelling, sobbing, grimy hands grabbing at the hem of his robes.

“Master Regulus, Kreacher is so sorry. Master Regulus, Kreacher is so sorry.” He stammered the words like a chant, head bowed, tears running down his long nose. “Kreacher couldn’t bear it, master. Kreacher had to.”

Regulus felt sick. His head was spinning, his ears pounding. He was on the floor, slumping against something hard—it jabbed into his back.

For a minute, he thought this was another memory. Another sick non-reality.

But no. This was the cave. This was real. And maybe this was worse.

A goblet lay at their feet. Water had formed a little puddle where it had fallen, spilling from the lip.

Regulus’ lips were moist too. A trail of water inched down his chin.

The fire, the burning in his throat, his mind, his chest—it was extinguished.

How?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Slosh.

The silence of the cave, broken.

Something moving in the dark.

Realisation struck Regulus like cold water, as if he’d been dumped, bound, in an icy lake.

“You touched the water,” he gasped out.

Regulus staggered to his feet, gripping the basin to stay standing, his knuckles white with the effort.

The other hand ran through his pockets. The frantic search came up empty, and Regulus gave a low gasp, a terrified moan. His eyes scanned the ground, searching in the dim light.

He was sinking in that icy lake. He was sinking fast.

Where was his wand?

He’d dropped it—he must’ve, when he was drinking the potion. He imagined he’d thrashed. He imagined he’d screamed.

It must have rolled down the banks of the stone island, dropped into the dark, dark water…

“Oh, Kreacher…” Regulus gasped.

A slosh of water. A fleshy slap against stone.

Something moving in the dark.

“Kreacher is sorry,” the house elf wailed.

Regulus couldn’t breathe.

He had to keep his head. He had to concentrate.

He shoved a hand into his pocket—a final vain attempt at salvation—and found cool metal instead of wood.

The locket.

This he had to do. This, or it was all for nothing.

He dropped the fake locket into the empty basin. It clattered against the sides with a metallic tinkling, a jarring sound against the relative hush of the cave.

And yet it hardly echoed. That was how it was, here. In this smothering darkness, this cave of the dead.

Regulus heard the dripping again.

No longer monotonous. Now there was a chorus, and it was growing, a steady crescendo.

Regulus scooped the real locket out of the basin and dropped to his knees. It was hot against his palm, unnaturally fiery. He pressed it into Kreacher’s hands.

The elf’s face, illuminated by the light of the island, glowed a pale green. His eyes were yawning caverns, pulled back in fright. He was trembling.

“Kreacher,” Regulus gasped out. “We don’t have much time. They’re coming, see? What’s important is—is that this, this is safe. You understand? I can’t apparate here, but you—”

“No!” Kreacher squealed.

Regulus chanced a glance about him, glancing towards the water. It was futile. The green light of the island all but blinded them, turned the darkness around them into an impenetrable fortress of the dead.

But Regulus could hear them.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

They were growing closer.

He turned back to the elf. Forced himself to breathe, to speak, to stammer out what he could. “Leave. Please, Kreacher.”

The house elf trembled. He shook his head stubbornly, ears wagging, a bony hand reaching out to grab at Regulus’ cloak.

“K-Kreacher I… I command it, okay? I command it! Leave!”

Kreacher flinched, as if he’d been slapped. He drew back.

He shivered, clutching the locket to his chest, wide, dark eyes bearing into Regulus’ until that final, resounding—

Crack.

Alone.

Regulus got to his hands and knees and searched around the basin then, fingers running over the cold stone in search of his wand.

Futile. He knew it. He didn’t care.

He searched until the first hand grabbed him.

An icy grip. Cold. Regulus barley resisted as it dragged him towards the water.

You thought you could trick the Dark Lord and walk away laughing. You thought. Ha!

Regulus was no stranger to drowning. He knew what it was like to feel empty, breathless; to choke, to scramble for purchase in nothingness as you sank.

Once upon a time, Sirius had always been there to pull him to the surface.

But that time was over. His brother was gone.

Even so, as Regulus slipped beneath the waves, he couldn’t help but cling to that hope.

A dying man’s last hope.

“I’m your older brother, Reggie. It’s in the job description—being here for you.”

As ludicrous as it seemed—maybe this time, he’d stick to his word. Maybe now, when it mattered the most.

Maybe he’d be here. Maybe he’d come back.

Maybe.

[q-gorgeous]

My Hero

fanfiction

ao3

What happens when Dash finds out about Danny's secret during the events of Micro Management? prompt by @ectopal

word count: 1573

IGNORE THE HORRIBLE TITLE bjhg the only other one i thought of was an ed edd n eddy themed title but clearly that doesnt work for danny phantom jnbhgv

“I gotcha!”

Dash stared up at his hero as he struggled to hold him up, dangling off of the monstrosity that sat on top of the Fenton’s roof while he was the size of an ant. Phantom’s eyes were squeezed shut as he held on tight to Dash’s wrist. 

Phantom’s appearance had been changing ever so slightly as he lost his powers after being hit by a Fenton device, so when a bright white ring appeared around the ghost’s waist, he hoped it would mean that his powers were returning. 

But instead of giving back any of his ghostly abilities, the ring traveled up and down his body. Phantom’s eyes shot open and he gasped, looking down at himself. White hair was replaced by raven black and the Phantom t-shirt turned into Danny Fenton’s signature tee that he wore everyday. 

His head lifted up and Danny Fenton’s blue eyes met Dash’s and he felt his stomach drop. 

Thoughts started spiraling through his head.

What the fuck. The kid I wail on everyday is my hero who’s trying so hard to make sure I don’t die. Why is he doing this?

Rockets flew past Dash’s back and into the metal above Danny’s head. A determined look that was normally worn by Phantom appeared on his face. 

“One, two, three!” 

Danny heaved Dash up onto the windowsill. 

Dash sucked in a couple deep breaths as he watched Danny run over and try to open the window next to them. 

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. 

QQQQQ

He still couldn’t believe it. 

Danny Phantom, Dash’s hero, transformed into Danny Fenton right before his very eyes. Saved his life! He had millions of questions but ever since they unshrunk themselves and Danny flew him back to the sidewalk, he had the gall. The audacity. To not even talk to Dash. 

What was even worse was that Danny sat right in front of him in their english class. He ignored everything Dash did to get his attention. Kicking the back of his seat. Tapping on his shoulder. Pulling on his hair. 

Dash huffed and rested his chin in his hand. He didn’t know why Fenton wouldn’t talk to him. 

He looks over to the side and sees two of his classmates exchanging notes. The girl who opened it blushed and scribbled something down before passing it back. 

Brain blasting, Dash ripped off a piece of his notebook paper and scribbled a smiley face on it. He threw it over Danny’s shoulder and onto his desk. Only a few seconds went by before he threw it back over his shoulder and into Dash’s face. He frowned.

Dash aggressively scribbled four more smiley faces and threw all five pieces of paper over Danny’s shoulder again.

Danny sighed and finally, finally turned around to face Dash, a scowl on his face. 

“What do you want Dash?”

“I think you know what I want.” Dash pointed a finger at Danny. “I wanna talk about the other day.”

“Dash-” Danny started but he was interrupted.

“No. I know what you’re going to say. But you can’t just drop something on me like that, accidental or not, and just. Ignore it.”

“I don’t have to talk to you about anything. It’s none of your business.”

Dash groaned and laid his head against his desk. “But I’m so curious.”

“Why? Why do you even care? I’m just the kid you beat up everyday.”

“But you’re apparently also my hero.” Dash mumbled into his elbow.

He could just feel Danny staring into the top of his head.

“Okay.”

“What?” Dash lifted his eyes up to look at Danny who was still staring.

“I’ll talk to you about whatever it is that you want to talk about.”

Dash bolted up in his seat, mouth forming an O shape before he started trying to shoot off a question. Before he could finish, Danny was waving a hand in his face.

“Not here! There’s too many people around. If you meet me outside during lunch we can talk about it then.”

Dash closed his mouth and nodded his head. After a moment he threw another smiley face at Danny.

QQQQQ

Dash walked outside the front doors of the school and looked around. After a bit, he saw Danny sitting on top of the picnic table surrounded by some trees. He walked over and cleared his throat.

“Hey.”

Danny turned around to face Dash, an apple in his hand. He took a bite of it and started talking with his mouth full.

“Charming.” Dash sat down on the bench of the picnic table. 

“What can I say.” Danny shrugged. After taking another bite of his apple, Danny looked down at Dash from where he sat on the table, an apprehensive expression on his face. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about?”

Dash fidgeted with his hands. “You’ve only been like this since freshman year? When Phantom first started showing up all over the place?”

“Yes.”

“How did it happen?”

He saw Danny tense up out of the corner of his eye so he looked up at him. Danny was looking anywhere but at Dash and he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Uh, usually our deaths are a touchy subject for ghosts but.” Danny lifted his shirt just high enough so Dash could see a trail of lichtenberg scars. “It was my accident I had before the school year started. Sam and Tucker were over and we were messing with the ghost portal because it didn’t work and they convinced me to go inside. I tripped on something in the portal and my hand hit the power button and…” 

“Oh my god.” Dash paled. “That must’ve been terrible.”

“Yeah. It was.”

Silence settled over them again after that. 

“Sam and Tucker were there. That must mean they know, right?” Dash asked softly.

“Yep.” Danny started scratching something into the surface of the picnic table. 

“Does anyone else know?”

“Just Jazz. And all the ghosts. But they never tell anyone so it’s fine.”

Dash gawked at him. “All the ghosts? All of your enemies know your secret identity?!”

“Yeah, but they’re not snitches.”

“Danny!” Dash shouted. “What if they told your parents? Or the other ghost hunters?”

Danny shrugged. “They haven’t yet. I’m not sure why, but they never go that far.”

Dash placed his head in his hands. “They have a weird sense of camaraderie then considering they’re always trying to kill you.”

Danny just shrugged again. 

Slowly lifting his head back up, Dash looked at Danny. “Can I see?”

Danny’s brows furrowed. “See what?”

“You change, your transformation, whatever you call it.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Danny took a deep breath.

“Okay. But no recording it or anything. Your phone has to stay away.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of recording it!” Dash exclaimed. 

Danny stood up and hopped off the picnic table. He walked a few steps away and turned to face Dash, his feet spread apart and his hands in fists at his side. He closed his eyes. 

“I’m going ghost!”

Dash watched in awe as a white ring appeared around Danny’s waist, illuminating his face and his hair as it traveled up and down his body. Soon it disappeared and all that was left was Phantom.

“Woah.”

Danny did some jazz hands. “Tada. That’s how I transform, but you already sort of knew that.” He floated so that he was laying on his stomach in the air.

Dash was still too busy studying Danny in his ghost form. He never believed that Fenton and Phantom looked so alike before but now that he knew it was impossible not to see it. He was broken out of his thoughts by a hand waving in his face.

“Did you have any other questions?” Danny asked.

“Uh, maybe just one more.” Dash said sheepishly. “Can you show me some of your powers? Oh! Like your ghostly wail?”

Danny scrunched his nose up. “That’s for emergencies only. The ghostly wail would take out all these trees and the parking lot.”

Dash’s shoulders slumped.

“But.” Danny continued. “I can show you this one.”

Looking back up, Dash saw Danny cupping his hands together. A blue blow shined inside them and when Danny opened them back up an ice crystal was in his hand. He held it out to Dash and he took it. 

Looking at it, Dash saw that the ice didn’t melt at his touch even though it was cold. He looked up at Danny with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Ghost ice. It follows its own laws of chemistry.”

Dash nodded even though that didn’t give him any sort of answer. He tried to hand the crystal back to Danny. “Here.”

Danny shook his head. “Nah, you can keep it. It shouldn’t melt or anything.”

Looking back down at the crystal, he stared at it for a moment before stuffing it safely in his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something but the bell rang.

“Well.” Danny said, the rings appearing around his waist again and turning him back to normal. “Time to go back to class.”

He started walking away and Dash watched him go. He took a deep breath before jogging to catch up with him. 

“Hey! Let me walk with you. We have our next class together.”

Danny smiled and together they entered the school.