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xzaddyzanakinx · 12 days

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Twenty: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER

Info: Aw ur having such a cute dinner party... wtf is that?? [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

”Jesus Anakin, what happened?” You gasped, seeing the damaged door of his car as he walked you toward it. You crouched down and touched the big scrape, feeling the dented and scratch metal beneath your fingertips with a wince as you turned to look up at him, you were surprised to see a little smile on his face when you’d expected one of annoyance or anger.

”Some little girl backed into it.” He snickered, giving you a hand up from your squatted position. “Looks like there are worse drivers than you out in the world. Makes me shudder to think about.” He dramatically shivered, opening up your car door for you and guiding you into your seat with a hand on your ass.

”Was she alright?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he plopped himself down in the drivers seat and slammed the door shut.

“Yeah, it was a stationary accident. She was fine, just real upset.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair before starting the car and reaching over to put a hand on your thigh while he drove. “She had the tiniest dent and just a bit of paint on the bumper. Worried sick her momma would be mad about the insurance going up.”

”Oh poor thing.” You winced, knowing all too well the worry of something like that happening from experience.

”No, don’t ‘poor thing’ her.” He snorted, patting your thigh affectionately. “I told her to get some WD-40 and a magic eraser, it’ll fix it up and her mom won’t notice the dent for a while, its so small.”

“Well what are you gonna do about your car?” You asked, feeling a strange mixture of pride in Anakin for taking care of the issue for the young girl and a dash of irritation that he’d be paying for the damage on his car when it wasn’t even his fault.

”Cliegg will take care of it.” Anakin shrugged, clearly unbothered by the whole situation.

”Really?” You raised an eyebrow in surprise, not realizing his stepfather had any auto-body experience.

”Yeah, we’ll buff the paint and pop the dent out, its no big deal doll.” He said reassuringly. Squeezing your knee as he drove the short distance back home.

After arriving at your apartment you were pleasantly surprised to see that your entire apartment was spotless. The dishes were gone, the trash had been taken out, the floors vacuumed and mopped so well that you could catch a whiff of the faint scent of the cleaning solution he’d used. Even the basket of laundry had been emptied and put away. It was so nice to come home to a clean, fresh smelling home like this, you’d missed it so much more than you’d realized.

It nearly made your heart ache.

“Anakin you didn’t have to do all this.” You turned around, giving him an appreciative smile and swallowing the little lump in your throat that was trying to creep up and stop your breathing.

“I know that princess,” He said softly, the corner of his mouth curving up into a smile. “I just thought you might be able to relax a little better if i took care of it for you.”

”Thank you for being so sweet.” You whispered, inching closer to him until you were able to rest your head against his chest and allow him to hold you close.

“Anything for you doll,” He murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head lovingly. “You’re all tense sweetheart.”

Anakin rubbed your back, one hand cupping the base of your skull, his fingertips gently scratching your scalp. After a moment of standing there comforting you, he pulled back and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He sighed, smiling down at you like you’d hung the moon just for him, you couldn’t help but blush. It was an endearing quality of his, the ability to love you so thoroughly that he didn’t even have to speak the words aloud. It often made you wonder if you exuded that same warm feeling for him, you wanted him to feel it like you did.

It was odd, how one minute you were so completely enraptured in Anakin’s presence and the next you were punching down every guilty feeling or idea threatening to interrupt those sweet little daydreams. It seemed nearly impossible to get through a single line of thought without being intercepted and hijacked. It made you not want to think at all, made you wonder what it would be like to feel nothing but a void in your soul, not the kind that ached, the kind that burned your stomach and clawed your throat. You wanted the kind that was far removed from emotion the kind of void that was blank, empty and cold.

“Sorry, I- I was just thinking about getting in the shower.” you leaned back to look up into his face before getting to extricate yourself from his embrace.

“Let me come with you?” Anakin murmured, not entirely a question but not really a demand either. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You said quietly, you had missed him of course, but there was someone out there you missed more. Not due to lack of love for Anakin, simply because it had felt like years since you’d spoken to the hunter who owned you as prey.

“Yeah, c’mon Ani.” Your voice a soft tone, hoping he’d accept the sudden subdued moment between you as one of reined in lust, rather than one of longing for another.

Anakin didn’t seem to notice, too busy ushering you toward the bathroom while he was ripping his clothing off. Whipping his shirt off over his head so aggressively that you heard one of the stitches pop, soon followed by the clattering of his belt and soft thud of his jeans hitting the bathroom floor.

“Mm.” Anakin grunted in a pleased manner as he watched you undress and toss your clothes into the laundry basket. “I love that pretty little set.”

He whistled low and lustful as he stepped forward to fully appreciate the delicate fabric of your matching bra and panties. The snug bra had a cute, innocently sexy quality to it, the white and pink lace contrasting beautifully with your skin, the panties nearly entirely see through in the best way.

Anakin couldn’t stop smiling as he guided his palms over the soft planes of your physique as if he were seeing it for the first time all over again. Pausing his rough fingertips at the center of your spine he flicked his tongue out against your bottom lip and down your cheek to lave at your neck as a public declaration in purple. Both hands left a fiery wake as they slipped beneath the band of your bra and popped the clasp loose.

“Never gets old.” He shook his head and whispered quietly. “Every time I fall in love all over again.”

“Ani, n-not yet.” You stuttered as he started to drag his tongue across your chest, goosebumps cropping up over your flesh so rapidly that it startled you. “At least let me rinse off the restaurant stink!” You squealed as he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you into the shower.

”Brace yourself.” He giggled, turning on the water once you’d pulled the shower curtains closed. The water sprayed down cold upon your skin, making you gasp before it grew warmer.

“Shit, that was colder than I thought it’d be.” He shivered, chilly hands caressing your stomach until he reached the pillowy softness of your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. “Worth it.” He grinned.

”Fuck you.” Swatting at his hands in playful defiance when you realized he wasn’t just being impatient, he’d wanted you to get doused in freezing water for his own satisfaction.

”Nope.” He shook his head, wrapping his arms around your slowly warming body, his lips tickling the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “I’ll be fucking you.”

The gravelly undertone of his voice rippled across your flesh and wormed its way down the planes of your body until it ripped into the coil growing taut in your core. Just like that, quicker than a snap of the fingers, you were putty in his strong, tattooed hands. His lips trailed down your neck, nibbled across your collarbone, and traveled to your breasts. His mouth and hands took their time massaging and tasting your water slicked skin, his little teasing nibbles turning into harder, needier bites as he moaned and fell to his knees.

”You just stay right there and make those pretty noises for me.” He murmured, lifting one of your legs to hook over his shoulder before nuzzling into your cunt.

”Anakin,” panting already as you grasped at his damp hair. “Anakin just fuck me already, you’ve been teasing me since we stepped in here.” You whined, trying to pull his face away from the apex of your thighs.

Anakin’s hands roamed up your stomach and he shifted his position to tilt you farther back into the corner of the shower. He kept one firmly anchored to your hip that rested on his shoulder, the other gripped your chin with his thumb, pinky and ring fingers holding you in place. His middle and pointer finger forcing their way between your lips and pressing down on your tongue to shut you up.

”I want what I want and I’ll have it.” He growled, nipping your clit before diving back in to continue his work. His tongue tirelessly lapping at your folds, waning every time you neared orgasm until he had you desperately mewling around his fingers, your hips bucking against his smiling face. ”Keep your hands behind your back or I’ll make you wait longer.” He murmured, holding back a chuckle.

“Please?” You slurred, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth as you gagged on his fingers, your hands itching to move and force him to stay where you wanted him.

”You wanna cum?” He rasped, looking up at you beneath his thick lashes while flicking his tongue back and forth as he awaited your answer. A thick, garbled moan and rapid nod confirmed what he already knew, making him snicker as he slowly rose up.

”Well, you’ll just have to wait.” He whispered, wiping his face on your breasts, planting a kiss on your sternum before turning you until the water pelted your back so you’d face him while he soaped up your body.

”You’re joking.” You squeaked, your chest heaving with each breath as you shivered under the soapy loofah, the rough netting setting your already sensitive skin ablaze. “You can’t just-“

”Oh yes I can.” He interrupted you, a devilish smirk gracing his lips. “You were the one who wanted to wait until after the shower right?”

”But not like this! That was before you tortured me!” You whined, angrily grabbing the shampoos bottle, eager to get out of the shower and into the bed.

”C’mon doll, don’t complain or I’ll make it so much worse.” Promising more than just teasing, Anakin was promising a world full of nothing for you and all pleasure for himself.

”I need you, in a bad way.” He mumbled, spinning you to face the shower head so he could take over scrubbing your scalp and carding the shampoo down your tangled strands of hair. “Been waiting for you all evening, its your turn to wait now.” He growled, pressing his hardened erection against your ass, slotting it between your thighs to rub the tip against your folds, his rough hands gripping the base of his cock as he groaned.

“This is so mean.” You whimpered, tilting your hips backward and grinding back on him.

”You better quit.” He chuckled, samcking your hip lightly before making you turn your back to the stream of water once again to rinse the suds from your hair.

You couldn’t help but stare down at his hard, throbbing length. It stood there so proudly, so thick and pretty, adorned with that shiny silver jewelry that you never knew you needed before him. In the span of time that he’d had you distracted just by existing, he’d rinsed out your hair and rinsed himself off as well, the masculine scent of his body wash clinging to the steam of the shower.

“Time for bed?” You grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as he led you out the shower and onto the soft bath mat, wrapping you in a towel.

”Oh you’re sleepy?” He teased, struggling not to smirk. “Well, I suppose I could wait until t-“

”No! You know that’s not what I meant!” You scowled, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along behind you to the bedroom.

“Moody little thing.” He mumbled under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. He used his free arm to pull you back against his chest, using your tight grip on his wrist to his advantage by twisting your arm behind your back. With that arm trapped between yourself and his chest, he leaned in closer, his plump lips brushing against you ear. “I believe we’ve discussed this before. Do. Not. Raise. Your. Voice. At. Me.”

Each word was punctuated with a pause that seemed louder than the words themselves. You’d heard that phrase. Heard it enunciated identically to this. The only difference between then and now is the person.

“What did you just say to me?” You whispered, the warmth of your cheeks, flushed from arousal turned icy cold and pallid within milliseconds.

”I said not to raise your voice at me babydoll.” Anakin said sweetly, kissing your neck chastely before releasing you from his firm grasp, spinning you out of his hold as if on the dance floor. “It’s rude.” He chuckled, backing you up to the bed.

“Right.” You tried to swallow but it seemed as if you had temporarily lost that ability, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You were startled, the aggressive embrace, the sudden change of tone, the familiar dialogue… that’s all it was. Familiar dialogue. Anakin was always a stickler for behavior, it wasn’t the first time you’d been chided by him over something small and it wouldn’t be the last. Anakin is aggressive sometimes too, this is fine.

“Atta girl.” Anakin chuckled, grabbing your chin in one hand, bringing your face closer to his for a slow, tender kiss. “I love it when you listen.” He murmured against your lips.

“Doing my best.” You laughed uncomfortably, turning your head to the side to avoid his eyes.

”Aww, feeling shy?” He teased, stepping closer until you were forced to bend backward in order to look up into his face.

Anakin cupped the back of your head in his large palm, using his free hand to hike one leg up over his hip. His tongue starting in the dip at the base of your throat, swiping side to side in a sidewinder fashion until he reached your jaw. The tip of his tongue traced the underside of your jaw lightly, traveling up the shell of your ear and ending with his teeth nibbling your earlobe.

The sensation left behind was a cold flamed fire that spread from your flesh and began to seep deep into the marrow of your bones.

“Shy?” You repeated in a whisper, having trouble forming a straight line of thought. Your brain felt off-kilter, like a switchboard operator had plugged all the cords in wrong.

“Oh, poor thing.” He snickered, pushing you down gently. “You sound kinda stupid. Maybe just let me do the talking for now okay?”

“S-sure.” You nodded, frowning slightly before one of his massive hands clamped down over your mouth.

”Good girl.” He grinned, pushing down on your stomach with his other hands laying flat, splaying his fingers to almost fully cover you abdomen. “Now lets see how long you can stay quiet.”

Diary Entry: October 14th

I love you. I love you so much. But I love that deer in the headlights look on your face when I stitch your two worlds together even more. Why won’t you just admit it to yourself? Why do you continue to torture yourself like this? It’s baffling. You’re sleeping beside me right now, if you could even consider what you’re doing to be sleep. Whimpering and mumbling in a ‘being chased by a monster In your dreams’ kind of way. I’ve tried petting you, playing with your hair and even talking quietly. The only thing that seemed to work was when I started to doodle in my notebook, maybe somewhere in the back of your mind you associate the sound of pencil on paper with safety. The brain is so weird in that way. How is it that you couldn’t ever hear me break in and roam around your apartment but you could hear me sit in the floor with your cat in my lap and write in my journal? At this point I think even taking off my mask right in front of you wouldn’t convince you to see the truth. What excuses are you giving yourself now? What excuse are you going to come up with after you find out what I’ve done?

Diary Entry: October 14th

I’m glad I kept the hall camera up. I’m glad I still check it, I’m glad I still have all the previous footage. Lacey is a liar.

October 15th

”Oh god, that’s just…” Luke gasped, the color in his cheeks draining clean to the floor beneath his as he stared at the tv in his living room.

“Why the hell do they put crime scene photos like that on the damn news? Jesus.” Han said, whipping his hand out to the side to cover Luke’s face, knowing how squeamish he was compared to the average person. The photo didn’t reveal much at all, just a blurred figure sitting upright behind a counter.

“It’s the news Han, it’s not supposed to be puppies and rainbows.” Anakin said flatly, shutting the fridge door with two beer bottles in his hand, holding them by the neck and bringing them down on his knee. The first cap popped off easily and he caught it with his free hand, shifting the bottles slightly, he brought them down on his knee again and popped off the other cap.

“Well you’d think they wouldn’t put a dead guy on screen.” Han huffed, shaking his head.

”Show off.” You teased Anakin, watching him open the beers while you were busy rinsing the dishes from dinner off in the sink to then set up in the dishwasher.

“That’s what I do baby.” He shrugged, a grin on his lips as he plopped himself down on the other side of Han, handing him one of the beers.

“It was all blurred on purpose, they didn’t show anything gross.” Anakin said to Han dismissively. “Just don't watch the 20/20 special they’ll put out. They always get their hands on a couple gnarly crime scene pictures.”

“Ain’t that right.” Luke gagged dramatically, recalling a memory of the true crime show that he and Han had watched a few weeks prior.

“I don’t get why they haven’t released the name yet.” You mumbled, leaning against the counter as you glanced at the tv. “You think it was a minor?”

“No, they would’ve said that by now.” Anakin shook his head, sipping his beer. “They’re probably waiting for the autopsy or the family or something.”

_______________________________________________

“What you’re seeing on screen now is a security photo, taken from a CCTV camera inside the building.” A male news anchor gestured to the upper left corner of the screen where a black and white photo was being displayed. It was grainy and dark, half of the lens obscured by something. “This is the only image released to the press via the police department, we were unable to confirm if this is the only image containing the suspect.”

_______________________________________________

“What am I even looking at?” You asked, walking up behind the couch and leaning over Anakin’s shoulder.

“I don’t see a person there.” Luke said, craning his neck to the side in an attempt to see it from a different perspective.

_______________________________________________

“Sources state that the substance obscuring the camera lens is black spray paint, making the majority of the image completely useless.” The news anchor spoke with a clear voice, pausing for a moment before speaking again.

“Analysis has confirmed that this re-touched image holds the only current clue to who the suspect is.” He paused again while a new photo appeared on screen, slightly different in color tone and slightly less grainy. The difference of the pictures side by side was quite clear, just above the black spray paint splotch, a slightly different shade of black and grey could be seen. “Highlighted within the yellow circle, you can just barely make out the shape of a hand holding the spray paint can.”

“Police are fairly certain the suspect is wearing a black long sleeved shirt or sweatshirt, as well as black gloves. Due to the poor quality, they were unable to determine the material of the clothing and gloves.” The female news anchor took over speaking while live footage of the crime scene played on screen. Police tape, an evidence tent and a coroner’s van could be seen in the center of the shot.

”Investigators working the scene have claimed there seems to be no clear motive in the murder and no suspect has been cited. The victim was a young, well liked individual, whose family claims had ‘no enemies’.” The female anchor continued, pausing again before switching gears slightly.

“The mall will remain closed for the next two weeks while the police continue to gather evidence. All other information is being withheld from the public while the investigation is still in it’s beginning stages. More on this story tonight at 6:00pm.”

_______________________________________________

“That's it?” Han scoffed, shaking his head in frustration at the short ‘update’. “This is almost worse than ‘Frat Lake’.”

“What?” You squeaked, the heat in your body all rising to your head at once, making you feel light headed.

“You know, ‘Frat Lake’.” Luke turned around to look at you, “Those guys they found in the cabin across the lake from ours.”

“Oh, no… I know what you’re talking about. I guess I just didn’t realize they’d given the case a name.” You said quickly, trying not to stumble over your words.

“Well it’s like one of the main things in the news still, of course they gave it a name.” Luke said, shifting in his seat to put his arm on the back of the couch. “I don’t know about you but I still don’t think that kid did all of that by himself.”

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asked, his hand reaching up to snake underneath your arm and squeeze your bicep as if he could sense your nervousness even if he didn’t consciously recognize it.

“It was all so weird.” Luke said, looking over at Han. “Didn’t they say there weren’t any fingerprints anywhere?”

“Yeah, no fingerprints, no serial number on the gun, no bullet in the one dude.” Han mused aloud, each syllable from his lips making your stomach rise an inch higher in your throat. “He left those others alive, in the closet. It just didn’t make sense.”

“Well, shit happens.” Anakin said nonchalantly. “Maybe the plan changed.” Anakin’s thumb brushed back and forth over the soft skin of your inner arm, tilting his head up and to the side to kiss your arm.

“Maybe, yeah.” You agreed, your eyes shifting away quickly as your cheeks grew hot and your throat began to itch. “He probably realized he’d screwed up big time and panicked. Maybe that’s why he posted that stuff before he killed himself.” You suggested, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation but feeling it was more awkward not to give any input. So you simply repeated a paraphrased version of what Ghost had said to you.

“Probably.” Han agreed, nodding slowly before he put his arm across Luke’s shoulder. “I mean they weren’t good people so I kind of have a hard time feeling too bad about it.”

Anakin snickered at Han’s comment, turning his head away from the group for a moment before returning his eyes to the tv.

“What? You think they should’ve gotten away with it?” Han asked with a scoff. “Maybe they didn’t deserve to die, but I think a few days in that closet might have been good for them.”

“Oh no, not at all. I’m with you 100%.” Anakin said with a crooked upturn in his top lip. “I’d say you’re probably right on the nose there buddy. That’s probably what that little shrimpy kid had in mind. I doubt he planned on them all dying. He was probably hoping they’d get found before then.”

“Great so now Han has a true crime buddy to yap about the unspeakable with.” Luke grumbled, looking over at you with a look of understanding and sympathy. His face morphed into concern when he met your eyes. “Jesus babe, you alright?”

“Ani,” You said quietly, unable to come to terms with the fact that they were all so casually speaking about the case that you’d been involved in. “I don’t feel so good.”

“C’mere.” He said worriedly as he stood up and walked around behind the couch to stand in front of you, cupping your face in his hands to inspect you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” You whispered, feeling tired and drained compared to how lively and happy you were just moments before. Ghost was right to tell you that you shouldn’t watch the news on ‘Frat Lake’. You’d thought you were over it, but the guilt just smashed into you like a mac truck.

“Feeling squeamish?” He asked, his eyes soft and caring as you nodded. “Lukey, it’s your lucky day. No more crime-talk. We’ve upset the fairer sex.” Anakin joked, trying to break the mask of seasick green that covered your pretty face.

“Thank god.” He sighed in relief, changing the channel immediately, searching for something more friendly and less murdery. “This was supposed to be a cute double date. Not a gorefest.” He muttered under his breath.

Diary Entry: October 16

You know what? I complain in this little book a lot but honestly I just can’t help it. I’m a whiny guy sometimes and that’s okay. I can’t complain out loud. Even if I really wanted to. The other day made me feel kind of bad, after we left Luke and Han’s you were in a sluggish mood for the rest of the night. That’s okay, I get it. But I haven’t gotten all my fuckin’ done. I’ve been debating the possibility of digging Ghost back up just to get in a few extra rounds with you. I know you can handle it. You’ve done it before. Anyway, I get it. You need some time to process that conversation but please for the love of all things holy, do it quickly before I go bonkers. You’re always right here with me and I can’t get enough of you, it's always been like that but before I was able to have you so much more. I was fuckin’ for two.

Diary Entry: October 17

You keep texting Ghost. Why? It’s never a question. It’s never begging. You just tell him about your day. You tell him things you don’t tell me. Do you really love that side of me more? Is this love for the best version of myself not authentic? I wish you’d stop texting. It’d save me a world full of confusion. I don't know what the hell to do. I need you to stop. I don’t know that I want you to see the two of me blended together anymore. The longer this goes on, the more worried I’ve made a big fat mistake I become. Why do you trust him so much? It’s not like I didn’t lie to your face constantly. Knowing how badly you want Ghost to engage makes me want to bury him even deeper. I separated these two sides of myself for a reason, to give you the best and only the best. I lost that original goal somewhere along the way.

Date: oct 18th

“Can you hand me that big spoon please?” You asked Anakin as you worked around him in the kitchenette of his apartment.

“No.” He said flatly, even as he was handing it to you before you finished your sentence, making you snort softly.

“Thank you!” You said in a sing-songy voice, turning back toward the stovetop to finish stirring up the pasta sauce. “Are you almost done with those?” You asked over your shoulder.

“I’ll be done when I’m done darlin’. This takes time and precision.” Anakin said seriously, holding up a finger to signal you to wait.

“Ani…” You sighed, turning off the burner you were using and walking over behind him, pushing him to the side with your hip so you could see what he was doing. “Anakin SKywalker!” You gasped, smacking his arm.

“What?” He grinned, looking down at your red and embarrassed face. “You don’t like my cookies?” His lips in a pout.

“Just put them in the oven, we don’t even have time…” You tried to scowl but ended up with a downturned smile that gave way to surprise when you heard a knock at the front door. “See? No time to change them anyway.” You sighed.

“It’s unlocked!” Anakin shouted, scraping the left over chocolate chip cookie dough off his fingers with his teeth.

“Oh my god, this place looks… exactly as expected.” Luke snickered as he walked into Anakin’s apartment for the very first time, seeing his eclectic design and decor choices.

“Yeah, looks cool as hell.” Anakin nodded, a big grin on his face as he funneled a few stray chocolate chips into his mouth and then dusted his hands off over the sink before washing them thoroughly.

“Where’s this record collection you're always going on about?” Han asked, setting a big tote bag down on the center of the table.

“In my lair.” Anakin said, happily jogging over to his bedroom door to let Han look through them. “Feel free to dig around, I don’t mind.” He said as he flopped down onto his neatly made bed.

Meanwhile Luke was looking through the random trinkets and knick-nacks littered about the living area. Occasionally scooting something around to get a better look at it, like he was grocery shopping and searching for a ripe avocado. You heard a gasp and the sound of Luke’s ‘ew gross’ noise and quickly turned around.

“What the hell is this?” He squeaked, pointing to a jar on a shelf positioned above the couch.

“Oh, shit Luke. You scared me.” You laughed, walking over and standing up on the couch to grab the jar and bring it down for him to look at. “It’s a wet specimen.”

“It looks like a… I don't know.” He grimaced. “Is it a kitten?”

“It’s a rat.” You laughed, turning the jar slowly to give him the 360 view.

“Why the fuck would- Anakin?!” Luke shouted and after a few seconds both Han and Anakin came out of the bedroom. “Why?” Luke squeaked out, pointing to the jar is disgust.

“Oh! You met Bertie.” He grinned, walking over and picking up the jar. “Bertie was… a gift.” He said awkwardly.

“You got a rat in a jar… as a gift?” Han scoffed in disbelief.

“No, I got the rat as a gift. The jar came after.” Anakin grinned, putting the jar back up on the shelf. “Wet specimens are a form of taxidermy. Bertie was my first and only childhood pet. I wanted to keep him.” He shrugged.

“I’m… okay.” Luke blinked, sharing a look with Han. “Remember when I said he was too good to be true? I was right.” Luke frowned in disgust at the jar.

“Oh come on, it’s no big deal, we had stuff like this in the science lab in highschool. I thought it was sweet.” You defended Anakin’s odd keepsake because it really didn’t seem all that odd.

“Sweet?” Luke scoffed. “Babe. No.”

“Ah, leave him alone.” Han snickered. “You just picked up a stray cat and named him after your dead one. You’re weird too.”

“No. That’s different!” Luke insisted, crossing his arms and looking at you in hopes you backed him up but you were too busy giggling at the exchange to even pay attention.

“Ah, well. Don’t come crying to me when Art the second dies and you want him in a jar.” Anakin snickered, teasingly clapping Luke on the shoulder.

“That’s serial killer shit bro.” Han snorted, following Anakin over to the oven where the cookie timer was beeping.

“Oh yeah?” Anakin grinned widely, holding up his hand in a fist to bring down a few inches above Han’s chest. “What’s the Psycho sound effect? ‘Ree-Ree-Ree’?” He snort-laughed, bringing his fist down repeatedly in a stabbing motion.

Han laughed, dramatically going along with Anakin’s jest by slumping over on the counter and reaching out a hand for Luke, making a fake strangled gurgling noise. Anakin shot a big smile over at you before he bent down to pull out the cookie tray from the oven while Han straightened back up and went over to console a very unamused Luke.

“C’mon it was funny.” He laughed, putting an arm around him and steering him toward the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and gently shoved Luke down into it by the shoulder.

“How do you expect me to eat when there’s a dead rat in the room?” He asked in whiny voice.

“Anakin? Do you mind?” You prompted him with an apologetic glance.

“Ugh, fine.” He rolled his eyes and made his way to the shelf, grabbing Bertie’s jar and taking it to his bedroom to stow it away while Han and Luke stayed for dinner.

“Don’t you dare fuck with my cookies!” Anakin playfully shouted as he reentered the room to see you plating the cookies out of order.

“Oh come on.” You whined as he picked you up by the waist and carried you over to the table, sitting you down next to Luke.

“I think they put us in time out.” Luke muttered, his chin resting on his fist as he watched Han and Anakin filling plates and bowls for the four of you.

“Yeah.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you flipped on the tv. “Feels like it.”

“Eat.” Anakin said firmly as he sat down a bowl and plate in front of you, returning in a second with a glass of water. “Please.” He added in a sweeter tone as he kissed your cheek and sat down beside you with his own food.

“Gimme that.” Han said, snatching the remote from your hand. He turned his seat sideways to better view the tv as he searched for the local news.

“Wait, they’ll run it again in an hour.” Anakin said, snapping his fingers to get Han’s attention. “Remember how the ladies acted last time? You want it to be worse?” He gestured to the food on the table.

“Oh. Yeah you’re right.” Han chuckled, switching off the tv for the time being, deciding that the latest press release could wait until after dinner.

“Ladies?” Luke repeated with his jaw hanging open. “Han really?”

“What?” He snickered, turning his head to grin at Anakin. “He’s right. Just looking out for you hon.” He said, ruffling up Luke’s hair.

“Oh whatever.” You muttered under your breath. “You two are awful when you’re together.” You said jokingly to Han and Anakin.

Dinner went smoothly for the remainder of the time everyone was sat together at the table. The food you’d prepared and cooked alongside Anakin was much better than he gave himself credit for. He’d wanted to order in, insisting that Granny Lee at Thai Palace was a much better cook than either of you. (She was.) But you managed to convince him that it would be like a competition to see who could host better and that seemed to change his opinion very quickly. Even more so when you allowed him to take over making dessert all by himself. Which you sorely regretted.

“Cookies?” Anakin asked, a wicked grin spread from ear to ear as he placed the neatly lined up chocolate chip cookies down onto the center of the table. You sighed, blushing deeply as you hid your face behind your hands when Han busted out laughing and Luke started to giggle.

“Darlin’, go ahead.” Anakin prompted, rubbing between your shoulder blades while chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Choose one.”

The pristine white ceramic cookie platter held a baker’s dozen of chocolate chip cookies, each housing a letter made of chocolate chips.

G-O-H-O-M-E-I-M-H-O-R-N-Y

“I suppose I’ll just take the G.” You laughed, hiding your blushing cheeks with one hand while picking up your chosen cookie with the other.

“Momma always said you gotta send your guests home with a parting gift.” Anakin snickered, tonguing his labret piercing.

“Are you kicking us out?” Han laughed, grabbing a random cookie without a second thought.

“Nah, not yet. When the cookies are gone, you two better get going unless you want a show.” Anakin grinned, jabbing you in the ribs with his knuckles to tickle you and make you laugh despite yourself.

“Shut up!” You giggled, reaching up and behind yourself to gently smack his cheek.

“Ooh, feisty.” Anakin leaned down and tipped your chin up with his middle finger, planting a kiss to your lips before he yanked on your hair and sprinted away to the couch, leaving you with a scowl as you smoothed out your hair.

“Ready?” Han asked as he walked over and plopped himself down on the floor in front of the couch to watch the press release from the local police department.

_______________________________________________

A tall imposing police officer stood behind the dark stained oak podium, tapping a thin stack of papers into order on the wooden surface before clearing his throat and nodding to someone off camera. A few camera flashes could be seen as he leaned forward to speak into the handful of microphones situated on the podium.

“On October 13, 2024, at approximately 6:32 AM, the Police Department responded to a report of a possible homicide located at Revival Records within the East Side Mall." He made a short pause.

"Upon arrival, Officers met with an employee who wishes to remain anonymous, who discovered the deceased victim, a male identified by family members as Eric Codgins aged 24.” The officer waited a moment to flip to the next page of his pre-typed speech.

“Investigators were called in to begin immediate follow-up." He stated, looking up from his papers into the crowd.

"Those on scene learned that the victim had passed away while inside Revival Records during closing hours the previous night. The Coroner took possession of the deceased, and the results of the full autopsy are pending. The current information available reads: Victim is believed to have expired between 6:30PM to 8:30PM. The deceased was found to be missing several body parts which were found to be stowed away on the victim’s corpse.”

“There were several tools and other affects found at the crime scene that point to the work of at most, two individuals involved in the murder.” The officer sat down his papers, cleared his throat and stepped back to allow another officer to take over the podium.

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

“Body parts?” You asked in surprise. “I thought they found him sitting up in a chair.”

“They did.” Han nodded in agreement as you made your way to the couch and settled against Anakin’s side.

“Well how did they… what parts are missing?” You asked in morbid curiosity.

“Baby they aren’t going to release that just yet.” Anakin said as he put his arm around you and planted a sweet kiss to the top of your head. “That’s the kind of thing they withhold for when they question someone.”

“Mmm, right yeah that makes sense.” You hummed in response.

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

“We will now allot for a brief Q and A session.” The new, younger looking officer announced as they stepped up to the podium. Looking immediately regretful as reporters and the like started shouting out questions.

“There have been many rumors circulating that this crime is occult in nature due to the brutality and mutilation to the deceased." The young officer paused with his lips pursed impatiently as the crowd began speaking over him.

"We have explored this lead in great excess and are confident that it does not fit the description of any satanic or otherwise occult crimes.” He responded, another round of loud shouting starting up the moment he stopped speaking.

“We are still working closely with the coroner’s office in determining the official cause of death as well as the murder weapon." He shifted on his feet as though uncomfortable with the information he was about to give.

"What we can share with you is that the main instrument used was some type of small, handheld double edged blade. Much like a tactical knife or pen-dagger. As well as certain types of butterfly or switchblade knives; both of these variants are illegal in our state.” The young officer responded, pausing and holding up his hand to signal for the room to remain silent as a fellow officer joined him for a moment to whisper something to him.

“I’ve just been cleared to confirm a frequently asked question on the case.” He cleared his throat as his colleague stepped back. “We are aware of the use of CCTV cameras that utilize time-stamped photos as a means of security are used throughout the mall and among several other stores and workplaces throughout the city."

"There is no immediate threat to other businesses or establishments that we are aware of, though we do urge business owners to update their surveillance technology to twenty four hour surveillance taping rather than timed photos.” The officer paused again while the crowd burst into another bout of questions.

“With that being said, our investigative team has determined the CCTV photos from the crime scene have not been altered, modified or tampered with in any way before or after the crime occurred." He continued, seemingly agitated that he was continuously being interrupted.

"The only camera on site that was tampered with was located in the service hallway behind Revival Records, via the use of spray paint.” He cleared his throat again, seemingly pausing for a deep breath before preparing to answer the next top question.

“It is not known how the perpetrators worked around the timed photos, though what we can say is that there is obvious movement of objects and the victim’s position in these stills. The only photo of a suspect we have at this time is the photo released earlier this week."

"The image is obscured in such a way that our team has been unsuccessful in enhancing it any further.” The officer stepped away from the podium as the first speaker came back into view to speak once more.

“This will conclude our Q and A session for the time being. Our hearts go out to the Codgins family who will be holding a public vigil for their son in the main square, downtown tomorrow at 5:00PM. We’d like to close this session by saying that while there are no current suspects, rest assured we are working diligently to find the persons responsible for this heinous act.”

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

“Well that was a crock of shit.” Han scoffed, shaking his head as he reached up to his right side to squeeze Luke’s knee.

“Do you want to go?” You asked Anakin quietly, a hint of concerned understanding lacing your words.

“To the vigil?” Anakin asked, his eyebrows raised as if he were surprised you were asking. “I mean… do you think I should? I didn’t really know him that well.”

“Well I don’t know, I just thought maybe since you saw him so often you might want to?” You asked, leaning your head over on his shoulder while playing with the rings on his right hand.

“You knew him?” Luke asked in surprise.

“Kind of?” Anakin sighed, looking at the tv screen as he spoke. “I go to that record store all the damn time so I saw him quite a bit but it’s not like we were friends or anything.”

“Was he weird or like an ass or something?” Han asked curiously.

“What? No.” Anakin snorted softly. “He was just… normal I guess. I don’t know man, he was just the guy I handed my money to, you know?”

“Right, yeah I get that.” Han nodded, while you on the other hand just quietly listened to the conversation happening around you.

Noticing that something in Anakin’s voice had changed slightly, as though he weren’t fully engaged in the topic anymore despite still speaking about it somewhat in depth with the other boys. You assumed that he was busy watching the rest of the news broadcast still playing on screen and only giving the conversation a third of his attention, splitting it between petting you and halfheartedly watching the tv.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, disguising the question as a kiss on the cheek, knowing he probably wouldn’t appreciate you asking it aloud.

“Oh, yeah sweetheart.” He mumbled, bringing his hand up to twist the ring on the left side of his lip. “I’m all good, just thinkin’ that’s all.” He smiled.

“Okay Ani.” You said in a tone that let him know you didn’t exactly believe him, but you were willing to let it slide for now.

“So you guys want to watch a movie or something?” Anakin asked, licking over his top row of teeth.

“Yeah sure, but I want some drinks or something.” Han said, rubbing his palms together.

“I’ve got beer and that’s about it.” Anakin said with a shrug. “Or actually I think my girl’s got a bottle of wine, don’t you baby?” He asked.

“Yeah but we took it to my apartment, remember?” You said, patting his hand.

“What a shame, you live so far away.” He tsk’d, smiling crookedly.

“Speaking of, why don’t you guys just live together already?” Luke butted in, always one to ask awkward questions without a filter.

“Uh…” Anakin looked over at you as if he were asking permission to answer for the both of you, but you just shrugged. “You know, that’s a great question.”

“I guess we kind of already do live together. We always sleep in the same bed every night, just not always in the same apartment.” You said with a slight laugh.

“I always imagined when I found my person that we’d move into a house, not an apartment. So maybe that’s why.” Anakin said, standing up and pulling you with him.

“Are you saying you need a realtor?” Luke asked, his voice proving his excitement at having started this conversation and bringing up this topic. “I can call my mom. She’s got a realtor lady friend.”

“Oh yeah!” You nodded, “I remember her I think, blonde, scary acrylics?”

“Yep, that’s Amy.” Luke snickered, pulling out his phone and sending a text to his mother to get the information.

“Well I guess we’re house hunting then, hmm?” Anakin grinned, smacking your ass lightly to usher you along.

“I suppose we are.” You giggled excitedly, allowing him to usher you away from the couch without really knowing why he had gotten you up in the first place.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking down over your shoulder at his hand that was firmly planted on your ass.

“Walking with you to go get that wine.” He chuckled, glancing back to see Han and Luke chatting while Luke hung off the edge of the couch.

“Oh, right.” You nodded, letting him lead the way across the hall and into your apartment.

“So do you think I should go?” He asked the moment the door closed behind the two of you and you were in the hallway alone.

“Go where?” You asked in confusion. “The vigil?”

“Yeah, do you think I should go?” He asked, unlocking your apartment door and pushing it open for you, tonguing his lip piercings. “I knew him so like, i should right? Would it be weird if I did?”

“Ani, you’re overthinking it.” You sighed, picking up your cat as she sidled up beside you and rubbed against your leg. “If you want to go, then go and I'll come with you.”

“But I don’t want to go.” Anakin shook his head, leaning against the counter. “But I feel like I should.”

“Will it make you feel better?” You asked, scratching Boogie’s head.

“Nah, baby.” He shrugged. “I don’t feel bad in the first place, there’s nothing to feel better about.”

“Really?” You asked curiously, thinking it was odd that he was making such a big deal over it but still claiming he didn’t care. “How come? I mean you seemed friendly with him, didn’t you call him by some nickname?”

“Nickname?” Anakin scoffed. “No, that was an insult. Ferdinand, you know like the bull from that kids book? I called him that because he looked like an idiot with that big ol’ honking nose ring.”

“That’s a little hypocritical for someone who has a pound of metal in their face.” You pointed out with a sly smirk.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes at you, but smiled anyway.

“Ani, seriously though.” You said, sitting the cat down on the kitchen counter so you could walk over and smush yourself against him. “If you’re this worried about it, maybe you should go, just for your own peace of mind.”

“No, no you were right babydoll. I was overthinking it.” He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head.

“If you change your mind it’s okay.” You said softly, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.

“I know darlin’. Thank you.” He murmured, tilting your head back in one of his massive hands to tenderly kiss you, barely parting his mouth to lick across the plumpness of your bottom lip. “You always know what to say. Always.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, smiling against his mouth.

“I love you baby.” He whispered, squeezing you a little tighter as he tucked his face into your neck, his knees bent slightly.

“I love you too.” You said quietly, your hand coming up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Alright let’s go back over there before I end up fuckin’ you.” He sighed, sniffing as he awkwardly tried and failed to shift his half-hard dick by kicking out one leg, resigning himself to shoving his hand down his pants instead.

“Really?” You snorted, smirking as a pink tint grew across your face.

“Yes really.” He grumbled. “Your fault. Bein’ all hot and shit all the time.”

“My bad.” You shrugged and giggled, grabbing the wine bottle from the fridge and following Anakin on the short trip back across the hall where you found Luke and Han now cutely cuddled up on the couch.

“Back already?” Han smirked, shooting Anakin a knowing look.

“We have company man.” Anakin grinned. “I can wait til after you’re gone. I’m not a complete horn-dog.”

You snickered, swatting at his chest before turning away to pour two glasses of wine, one for yourself and one for Luke, handing it to him before offering your glass to Han, but he held up a beer bottle to show he’d already found himself a drink. So you happily climbed back over into your preferred corner of the couch with Anakin, tossing the boys a blanket before covering yourself and Anakin up with another, getting settled in for your movie night.

Just before Anakin picked up the remote to search for something suitable to watch, the newscasters announced the arrival of newly released, or rather, leaked photos from the CCTV at the Revival Records crime scene.

—----------------------------------------------------------

“The photos on screen now show very miniscule changes between frames. Each picture is taken at thirty second intervals, these three photos are shown chronologically.” The female newscaster held up her hand to gesture to the left side of the screen where three photos were lined up, each with a slight change between them.

“Our sources state that the majority of photos are similar to these, depicting very small movements around the victim, whether it be objects moving across the counter or even the digital footprint of the computer which showed activity during the time of the attack.” She said, looking over to her co-host for them to take over.

“With no trace of the suspect or suspects in any of these photos, it’s hard to understand how this crime was committed. According to several twitter posts currently circulating, users are theorizing the crime was committed by someone with a military background or perhaps even a poltergeist.” The co-host said, cracking a smile at the end as a few different twitter posts went up on screen to back up their statement.

“With such a brutal crime occurring on Friday the 13th in October, there was bound to be some wild claims, especially due to the seemingly invisible perpetrator of the crime.” They said, quickly switching back to their professional approach. “Online users have officially dubbed the suspect ‘The Ghost’.”

__________________________________________

Your eyes snapped up to the screen as your vision went blurry, unsure that you’d heard correctly, your voice sounded far away as you asked Luke to confirm the newscaster’s declaration. After having it confirmed, a sweet taste leaked out into your mouth. Your fingers went to your lip slowly and as you pulled your hand away, you heard Anakin speaking to you as though muffled by water. The words were unclear but his tone was understandable enough that you nodded along with whatever he was saying and allowed him to leave your iron grip to grab a paper towel for you.

“Open up.” He said softly, his eyebrows pinched together in worry as he dabbed at your lip.

You did as he prompted and opened your mouth, hearing him wince as he pulled your bottom lip down carefully to expose the chunk you’d bitten out of the inside of your cheek. He sighed, tossing the remote to Luke so he could take over while Anakin tended to your self imposed wound. He carefully doctored you as best he could, wadding up a paper towel to soak up the blood trickling out to mix with your saliva while he put ice in a ziploc bag and wrapped it in a hand towel to hold against your cheek.

“You okay?” He asked worriedly, tilting and turning your face gently to check for swelling as he held the ice pack.

“Uh huh.” You nodded, your eyes not meeting his. “I’m okay.” You smiled weakly, standing up and taking out the paper towel that hindered your speech, tossing it in the trash can.

“Are you sure?” Anakin asked, following behind you closely as you curled back up on the couch and waited for him to settle beside you.

“I’m sure.” You said flatly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. “Can you just sit down? Please?” You asked impatiently as he stood in front of you, wearing that same concerned expression that had been there since the moment you injured yourself.

“Right, of course babydoll.” He nodded, swallowing hard as he sat down and pulled you over into his lap. “Is this better? Can I get you anything? You’re comfy?”

“Can you stop talking?” You grumbled quietly, nestling yourself against his chest as he put both arms around you and settled your lower half between his thighs, cradling you in his embrace.

“S-sure.” He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows but not complaining or prodding any further.

“What we can share with you is that the main instrument used was some type of small, handheld double edged blade. Much like a tactical knife or pen-dagger. As well as certain types of butterfly or switchblade knives…”

The police may not know what weapon was used. But you do.

The first half of Texas Chainsaw Massacre was spent in complete and utter silence between you and Anakin. An event that had never occurred before and you assumed would never occur again. He was always giving commentary, especially with movies he loved. This shouldn’t have been a quiet movie. He should’ve been yapping about what was going on behind the scenes, what props were used in place of other things, which lines were improvised, what he thought would’ve worked better had he been in charge of directing the film. But he was so, so silent.

“Where is it?” You whispered.

“Hmm?” He hummed as though he hadn’t heard you, but you knew by the way his heart sped up that he had.

“Where is it?” You repeated yourself, trying to keep your voice as low and monotone as possible so you wouldn't alert Luke or Han.

“Baby, I dunno what you're asking me.” He said quietly, shaking his head and putting his hand on the back of your head to hold you down against his chest when you tried to pull away to look at him.

“Anakin, no you-” You started, but stopped before the next word could be formed.

“Don’t tell me no.” He said sternly. Whispering into your hair as he threaded his fingers through it soothingly. “Everythin’s fine.”

“No, no I need you to tell me right now wh-”

Suddenly his mouth was on yours as he cupped your face in both hands, aggressively, passionately, angrily kissing you. If you couldn't have a verbal argument, he’d give you a physical one. He was telling you to shut up. You were telling him to please say something, anything. He was begging you to stop asking, you were begging him to come clean.

“Jesus you guys, get a room.” Luke snickered quietly and you felt Anakin’s hand leave your face, his arm moving upward quickly, presumably flipping him off before returning his hand where it belonged.

“Oh come on I was just joking, I don’t-”

“Shut up.” You and Anakin snapped at him in unison, turning your heads simultaneously and resuming your passionate wordless discussion.

“Ew oh my god.” Luke groaned, nudging Han.

“Leave ‘em be.” Han snorted, pulling Luke up from the couch and gently shoving him toward the kitchen to gather their things and before they’d even shut the door to the apartment Anakin was whipping his shirt off over his head.

Tag-List:

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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kinardsevan · 3 months

Note

Buck finds out that Tommy talks in his sleep, and it's all just cute and/or sweet things about Buck.

The first time it happens, he’s come off of a twenty-four in the morning after Tommy’s ran late, keeping him out until the middle of the night. As such, when Evan crawled into bed at eight AM, still wired from the last round of coffee he’d drank, his boyfriend was still in his first round of REM sleep, dead to the world when he crawled into the blankets.

He’s been watching tiktoks about Huskies with attitudes when Tommy starts talking as he shuffles under the blankets, shifting towards him.

“No you can’t touch my butt,” he mutters, rubbing his face against his pillow. “You never keep your hands to yourself, Evan.”

He snorts at the words coming out of Tommy’s mouth, has to clap a hand over his face from making too much noise when his boyfriend suddenly shifts again. But then he settles again, and that makes him curious. He leans over, setting his phone on the nightstand.

“Are you sure I can’t touch your butt,” he asks softly, running a hand down Tommy’s back. “I like how it feels.”

Tommy huffs, curls his legs up under him. “Fine. But no squeezing.”

Evan bites his lips together, laughing mutely. Tommy shifts again, snuggling closer to him in his sleep, and it breaks Evan’s focus as Tommy’s arm slides across his waist, pulling him in. Being in the strength of Tommy’s grasp always makes him melt.

—

The second time it happens, Tommy has just come in from being on call from another forest fire. He barely manages to stay awake long enough to shower and let Evan shove a few bites of food down his throat. He passes out quickly, still on top of the blankets in his sweats and a shirt with a helicopter on it that says “shut up and lift”. He’s got one leg bent up and a hand resting across his torso, the very iimage of exhausted as he snoozes in Evan’s bed. It’s one of Evan’s favorite sights.

It’s also that night that he pieces together that Tommy babbles when he’s exhausted. The more wiped out he is, the more he talks in his sleep. Sometimes it makes sense, other times its only an intelligible word here and there between garbled noises. Maybe even fake mouth static?

He’s halfway through the movie they were watching when it starts.

“You got me a cheeseburger?”

Evan furrows his brow as he glances down at Tommy, baffled by whatever is happening in his dream.

“I love cheeseburgers.”

He can’t help himself. “Tommy, do you want a cheeseburger?”

“There’s cheese on the ceiling,” he replies. “Evan cooked the muffin man.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he mutters to himself, doing his best to stifle his own laughter. But Tommy’s words also suddenly have him thinking about a veggie burger.

When Tommy wakes up half an hour later, it’s to the sight of Evan eating takeout.

“Food?” He asks wearily. Evan lifts the bag towards him.

“Got you a cheeseburger,” he offers, a small smile playing on his face. Tommy glances at the bag skeptically for a beat, but something about it…

“Thanks,” he murmurs, shifting up on the bed.

. . .

The third time it happens, Evan has a pretty good idea what he’s in for. He’s been off for twenty-four of his forty-eight while Tommy had just come off shift that morning. He spends the better part of the day tidying around the house and running errands while Tommy rests, but by mid-afternoon, he’s craving a nap. He snuggles down into the blankets behind Tommy, opting to be the big spoon for the afternoon.

He’s on the edge of consciousness when it starts.

“No, CP30 cannot have WD-40. He’ll melt.”

Evan grumbles softly as Tommy’s words pull him back from darkness. “What?”

“Revenge of the sith is a better movie.”

“Get outta here with that blasphemy bullshit,” Evan mutters, burrowing his face between Tommy’s shoulder blades.

“Yes, princess.”

His eyes snap open and go wide at the response, but half a second later, Tommy is snoring.

. . .

“We gotta talk,” Evan says later that night as he’s putting dinner on the table. His tone is serious, so much so that Tommy is concerned.

“Okay? What’s going on, babe?”

Evan sits down next to him, moving bowls around to start putting food on his plate.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He asks.

Tommy nods. “I’ve heard. Gets worse the more I need rest.”

Evan nods back at him.

“Well you called me princess,” he adds. “And continued on your speech about revenge of the sith.”

Tommy chuckles softly, resting a hand over Evan’s. “Evan. Sweetie. Honey.”

Evan scowls at him. “It’s not a better movie, Tommy.”

“This coming from the man that said Valentines Day and Love Actually were the same movie,” Tommy retorts.

“Thomas Kinard,” Evan chides.

Tommy smirks at him before shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

“On the subject though,” Evan continues, a small grin pulling on his face. “Can I still touch your butt?”

Tommy’s eyes go wide as he looks up at him. “Excuse me?”

Evan smirks back at him.

#bucktommy #prompt fic #tevan #kinley #firebeast #firepilot #evan buckley x tommy kinard #mini fic #sleep talking

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jedi-hawkins · 4 months

Text

Flowers for the Doctor

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

@moonstrider9904 - Howzer

@eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Kix x f!reader

Chosen Flower: St. John's Wort

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Medical terminology, pandemic, sickness and death, brief suggestive content, friends to lovers

Beta-read by @anxiouspineapple99

The helmet of your hazmat suit hisses as you release the seal. A deep sigh passes your lips as you step out of your suit and hang it on the rack for decontamination. When you open the door to the decontam stalls, the creak echoes around the tiled room.

'Damn. All this and we can’t even get some WD-40 on the hinges?' You think to yourself before stripping down to your skivvies and stepping under one of the spouts. The doors from the infectious disease ward open again and a friendly face steps in.

“Kix.”

He smiles at you as he strips down to his briefs and steps under a spout. “Long day, Doc?”

You can’t even muster a reply as you close your eyes and hit the red button in front of you. For just a single moment, the rest of the hospital fades away with the roar of the sonic waves washing over you, and then it’s over.

“That good, huh?” Kix notes your response, or lack thereof.

You shake your head, trying to keep it together. “I’ve had better.”

Kix holds the door to the locker room open for you as you step through. “At least you don’t have to wear the clone kit all day.” He says, tossing you a pair of clean blacks from the cabinet. “On the battlefield it’s great, but here I bump around like a pinball. I’m lucky if I can make it through the day without breaking anything.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of your mouth does twitch a little. “I don’t know.” You respond, “I’ve always thought I looked like a hutt in those hazmat suits, and the gloves are so annoying.”

“Dinner?” Kix simply asks.

“Please.”

He leads the way to the hospital cantina. You met Kix just a couple weeks ago, but the two of you had become fast friends. He was a clone medic, sent to your planet to help in one of the hundreds of makeshift ‘hospitals’ that had popped up in the wake of a pandemic. This particular hospital was housed in an academic campus, shut down because of the spreading illness.

Normally, you were the second in command in the biggest hospital in the planet’s capital, but for the past month your days consisted of random converted buildings, biohazard suits, and patients you felt like you couldn’t do anything for. At the end of the day, you were thankful Kix had been stationed at your hospital.

Though you two were usually preoccupied with your own patients throughout the day, the pair of you could usually be found together on your breaks. It felt like Kix truly saw you and your struggle. Sure, the hospital Medical Director was the top dog, calling the shots, but you were the one in the trenches of the Infectious Disease Ward every day.

This pandemic was an enigma that you just couldn’t figure out. It should have just been the normal yearly wave of Wet Lung, easily managed by some general antibios, but those didn’t work. Then your Medical Director ordered you to move up to more aggressive drugs, so you did. Before you knew it, your patients were on IV drips of the most aggressive antibio cocktail you could think of.

And they still weren’t getting better, in fact, they were getting worse. You’d already lost a number of patients to sepsis, blood poisoning, and the other hospitals across the planet were facing the same issues. As far as you knew, any person that had caught this mysterious strain of Wet Lung were either dead or dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

You nearly bump into Kix when he stops to open the cantina door.

“Coruscant to Doc, are you okay?” He asks, guiding you through the door with a hand on your lower back.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Yeah, Kix. Just a long shift, you know?”

He squeezes your shoulder before grabbing a tray and heading to the serving line. Even though the Republic had brought the war to your Planet a few months ago, you had to admit their support was needed for this pandemic. And nobody knows how to feed the masses quite like the GAR.

Kix immediately starts eating when you two sit down, he told you about one of his brothers, Fives: 'If you didn’t eat quickly around him, he’d swipe the rest of your rations.'

You just can’t bring yourself to eat, instead you just chase a few peas around your tray. Of course, Kix notices.

“Jahaal'got.” He says, using your nickname to grab your attention. “Come on. Talk. It wasn’t just a long day.”

You avoid his eyes, the words getting stuck in your throat. You’ve lost patients before, multiple in one day even, so why was today crushing you so badly?

Kix sets down his fork and reaches across the table to gently grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. “How many did you lose today?”

You take a deep breath, “Twelve, eight more deteriorating. I just… I don’t get it, Kix. What are we missing? The drugs aren’t working, they keep going septic before we can catch it, and those that haven’t progressed to sepsis are dying to the Wet Lung.”

Kix stops your rambling by taking both your hands in his. “You remember what your nickname means, right?”

You should be able to remember, but your mind has been so overworked, it doesn’t come to you. “I, uh… something about medicine?”

“Jahaal’got.” Kix repeats it. “It’s the mando term meaning 'good for health', because that’s what you are. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all you can do.”

You nod, closing your eyes and rolling your head to try to release the tension in your shoulders.

“You’re off tonight, right?” Kix asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “I picked up the night shift, I have to be here.”

Kix scoffs at you. “Are you serious? What, you’re just going to sleep on the hospital floor forever?”

“Not forever.” You protest. “Just until this blows over.”

“This pandemic or the war?”

You meet his eyes, and a knowing look passes between you. After meeting him, you had discussed sending in an application to become a civilian medic for the GAR.

“Well, we have an hour before the night shift starts.” Kix says, standing up and taking your tray. “Why don’t we go for a walk and then try again at this ‘food’ thing before going back to work?”

Your brow furrows at his remark, “But you-”

“Will also be working the night shift, so it seems.” He cuts you off. He shifts both trays into one hand and holds his other out to help you out of your seat.

Kix leads the way, dropping the trays in the wash basin on the way out of the cantina. Outside, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange, pinks and purples.

The two of you walk through the academic campus, chatting about nothing in particular. Kix asks you a few questions here and there about the buildings you all pass. Though it’s been a few years, you tell him what you remember about studying here.

“It’s a shame all the students had to be sent home.” You remark as you step into the university greenhouses.

Kix nods his agreement. “What is this place?” He asks, looking around.

“The campus greenhouses, they're shared by a few departments.” You explain. “Biology, horticulture, environmental studies, and engineering to name a few.”

“I’m surprised everything is still alive, don’t plants take some maintenance?”

“Well, the greenhouse forms a pretty self-sustaining environment. I remember the medical students coming in here a couple times.”

Kix tilts his head at you. “What would medical students study in here?”

“Well,” you shrug, “There are quite a few medicinal plants native to this planet. Though they aren’t quite as effective as modern medicine, they can still be used for daily management or as an additional treatment.”

The two of you weave through the greenhouse aisles for a few more minutes before you notice Kix has lagged behind. When you turn around to find him, you notice he’s hiding something behind his back.

Your eyes narrow. “What do you have there, Kix? It’s not a bug, is it? That was only funny the first time.”

He chuckles, “Haha, no. I promise it’s not. Here, one last thing to brighten your day.”

You freeze when you notice what he has in his hand.

Kix notices your expression at the small yellow flowers he’s holding out to you. “What, are they poisonous or something?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head smiling as you take them from him. “It’s just funny, those are St. John’s Worts.”

“Weird name.”

“It’s from local mythology.” You explain. “The flowers tend to bloom on the summer solstice, which is dedicated to their namesake.”

Kix looks from you to the flowers and gently picks a few more sprigs from the nearby planter, tucking them behind your ear. “They’re pretty, like something else I’m looking at.”

His words make you smile, but you playfully swat at his arm. “Oh stop it. I know I look like hell.”

“You look better than anyone else would after nearly a month of non-stop work in an infectious disease ward.” He responds.

“Thanks Kix.” You say, hoping that your sincerity projects. Before you know it, you’re throwing your arms around his neck.

Kix falters, but only for a second. You feel his arms wrap around you, strong and steady, just like him. Just like he has been for you the past few weeks. Maybe it was his clone conditioning, or maybe it was just him, but he seemed so unshakeable and he always knew what to say.

He doesn’t relax until you do, but his hands remain on your hips, his eyes darting across your face, trying to read your thoughts. One of your hands rests on his chest, the other still on his shoulder. You won’t deny how drawn you are to him. Though you hoped for the end of this mystery illness plaguing your planet, it stung that it’s end meant saying goodbye to Kix.

Kix is shifting. ‘He’s leaning in, why is he leaning in?’

You move as well, but the moment is shattered when your foreheads bump into each other.

Kix lets go of you completely and takes a step back, color spreading across his cheeks.

“I uhhh…” He tries to find the words, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, it’s fine.” You stammer. “You’re fi- we’re fine.” A giggle slips past your lips at the awkwardness.

Kix breaks into some nervous laughter as well before readjusting some of the yellow flowers in your hair. “Tell me about them.”

You smile at him. “Well, they’re perennials, meaning they come back every year, they don’t need to be replanted. Although the flowers are yellow, they’ll stain your fingers red when you crush them. They’ve been shown to have some antidepressant properties as well as anti-inflammatory benefits, but you need to be careful when combining them with modern drugs.”

You notice Kix’s soft expression as he listens to you.

“It’s been shown that St. John’s Wort has antibio and antiviral properties as we-'' Your heart stops. “Kix.”

“What?”

“Kix, that’s it,” you repeat. “That’s why we keep losing them. We’ve been treating this Wet Lung with antibios, but those aren’t working because it’s not bacterial.”

Kix’s mouth drops open and he says the words at the same time as you. “It’s viral.”

You can see the thoughts tumbling in his head. “And because we advanced to use the system-wide drugs, the patient’s are too weak to fight the virus, triggering the sepsis.” He stammers out. “But, wait, that can’t be right. How can it be viral? There’s never been a case of viral Wet lung reported on this planet.”

Your feet move automatically as you start pacing. “‘There’s always a patient zero. Normal trade is scanned and sanitized.” You stop. “The troopers.”

Kix’s brow furrows. “No, we're vaccinated.”

“Yes, but vaccines aren’t a foolproof plan, with a mutated strain it might present as a mild cold, or not even show symptoms, especially since you all are engineered to have a more robust immune system.” You say, your brain moving a klick a minute. “Where were you all stationed before being deployed here?”

“Most of the 501st was on shore leave on Coruscant.” Kix replies, shaking his head. “The Carnivore and Execute Battalions… They were on Rhodia and transferred directly here for the occupation.”

His eyes widen and he grabs your wrist without another word.

“Kix? Kix!” You shout as he drags you through the campus back towards the hospital. “Why is it so important that you were on Rhodia?”

“Rhodia is one of the native planets for viral strains of Wet Lung.” He pants. “The Rhodians are largely immune, but some mutated strains survive. You were right, we had a couple troopers reporting colds when they transferred.”

The doors to the Infectious Disease Ward bang open and Kix finally lets go of your wrist, giving you a moment to breathe.

“Like you said, the troopers, we’re engineered to have stronger immune systems and we’re vaccinated.” He continues. “The population here…”

“We never have.” You finish his sentence. “We don’t have any kind of immunity. Combined with your theory that it’s a mutated strain and the antibios we’ve given them, it’s no wonder-”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

The two of you turn and see the Medical Director storming down the nearby hallway.

Kix steps partially in front of you and stands at attention. “I’m sorry sir, but we-”

“I don’t care what you two were doing!” The Director booms. “You bursting in here is no excuse.”

You slowly step out from behind Kix. “Please, sir. We think we’ve figured out this pandemic.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m in charge here.” The Director says, his eyes narrowing.

Instead of bowing away as usual, you stand your ground. “I am just as qualified as you, if not more. I'm the one that's been running this ward while you sit in your office. I graduated from this very campus, top of my class and I’m the second in command at the Capital Hospital. This disease we’re dealing with, it has to be viral.”

Your Medical Director looks you up and down, pausing at the yellow flowers in your hair. “There has never been a case of viral Wet Lung reported on this planet. The antibios always work. We just need to find the right combination of meds.”

“Sir, you need to listen.” You insist. “I know we’ve always treated Wet Lung with antibios, but look,” You wave your arm at the ward behind him. “Every single patient that’s come in is either still sick or has progressed to sepsis. The other hospitals are reporting the same.”

Kix puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “She’s right, sir. Strains of viral Wet Lung are common in other systems. We had a couple battalions transfer here from one of those systems, Rhodia. It’s likely some of our troopers were carriers for a mutated variant and brought it here.”

You pick up where Kix left off. “Even though our population doesn’t have any innate immunity, a fair amount of people probably could have ridden out the virus if we hadn’t given them those antibios.” You bite your lip before continuing. “Those drugs are effective, but in a patient with no bacterial infection, all it would do is compromise their system. They can’t fight the virus, and they progress to sepsis. Only we’re not catching it before it kills them because the Wet Lung is masking the sepsis symptoms.”

You try to stop the words from spilling over your lips but in a last desperate plea for your officer to understand, it slips out.

"We’re killing them."

Kix’s hand squeezes firmly on your shoulder as you let out a choked sob. Your medical officer looks at you curiously, you’ve always been so level headed and sure footed.

The Director crosses his arms. "So you’re telling me to take them off the drugs and do nothing. You do know that’s how we treat viruses, right?"

You lock eyes with him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We need to give them supportive treatment; fluids, steroids, pain medication. We can try some antivirals to weaken the Wet Lung strain, but the patients will have to fight it off on their own. All we can do is give them the best chance possible.”

Your director looks you up and down before letting out a little ‘hm.’ He glances behind him to the infectious disease ward and back to you. “I will not take responsibility when this goes wrong. Looks like we’re taking your direction now, Doctor.”

Under your instruction, all of the patients in the ward are removed off the antibio cocktail. Much to your Medical Director's annoyance, the death rate begins to improve. You sent word to the other hospitals caring for pandemic patients and they saw similar results. It’s a slow process, and Kix stays by your side every step of the way. The day you discharged your first survivor, you cried. You both did, actually.

It takes a few more weeks, some patients are touch and go. There were still a few deaths, and Kix held you as you cried for them. Then came the day that you got the news. Your patient numbers had reduced so much your little makeshift hospital was going to be closed, and you were being sent back to the Capital Hospital with a new position, no less. Your remaining patients would be transferred along with you and the University was going to be reopened.

And yet, you weren’t quite happy. Sure you’d basically saved your planet’s population from facing extinction, but you couldn’t revel in it knowing that a certain someone was going to be shipped out.

“The campaign here is over.” Kix had explained. “And with the pandemic contained, there’s no reason for the medics to stay behind.”

The 501st was being sent to Ryloth. You knew there was a crisis brewing there, and you were proud that you knew some of the brave men going to help there, but it still stung. It stung the same as your eyes did as you stand on the landing platform, waiting for someone to come say goodbye.

“There you are.” He says, walking up behind you.

You sniff slightly, trying to keep tears from pricking at your eyes. “Here I am.”

You hear a bit of laughter and you notice a group of clone troopers in blue armor across the landing platform that seem very interested in the two of you.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” Kix says, moving in front of you to block them from view. “Brothers…” He mumbles.

“I get it.” You say, searching his face, what for you’re not quite sure.

Kix reaches for a pouch on his belt. “I- I have something for you.” He says, sheepishly pressing a box into your hands.

Looking down you realize it’s a jewelry box. Gently you open the lid and gasp at the sight of what lays inside. Strung on a delicate chain is a single golden pendant of a flower. The same flower that Kix had tucked into your hair all those weeks ago. The same flower that led to the salvation of your planet.

“Kix… I don’t know what to say.” You stammer.

“Don’t say anything,” he says sweetly. “Just turn around for me.”

He takes the necklace from the box and gently brushes your hair out of the way before clasping the chain around your neck. Turning back around you can only shake your head and smile at him.

“I have something for you too.” You say.

Kix looks at you a little puzzled, he hadn’t seen you holding anything.

“They’re naming the new wing of the hospital after you.” You explain. “It’ll be like you’re always here. No one will forget what you did for us, for me.”

Kix gingerly cups your cheek with one hand. “It was an honor and a privilege.”

He’s leaning in again.

This time your lips connect and the landing platform melts away. There’s nothing but him. Him and you.

Of course your heart has to ruin it as it sinks with the returning thought that he’s literally about to leave and never come back. You break the kiss, but he keeps your foreheads pressed together.

“What is it?” He breathes.

You can’t help but scoff. “You’re leaving and we’re kissing. I doubt the GAR will give you much time for visits.”

“Hey,” Kix says gently holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like you said, I’ll always be here, jahaal'got. I will admit I should’ve kissed you sooner.”

“Hey lovebird! It’s time to go!” One of his brothers shouts.

That manages to get a laugh out of the two of you.

“I think you have to go.” You mutter.

Kix lets you go and takes a step back. “There’s one more thing, but it’s waiting in your office.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out and grab his bracer. “Kix. Thank you. For everything.”

With a smile, he leans in to peck you on the cheek before turning and jogging over to the shuttle where his brothers are waiting.

A grin spreads across your face when you see one with shoulder pauldrons wrap his arm around Kix’s neck to give him a noogie, while another with a top knot of hair claps him on the back.

The sun is setting by the time you get back to your office. The door slides open with a gentle woosh. It’s a nice space, though somewhat empty as you have yet to move most of your stuff over from your old office. On your desk is a vase of small yellow flowers. You find yourself shaking your head again as you walk closer.

Kix… when will he stop absolutely melting your heart?

When you didn't think he could surprise you any more, you realize the flowers in the vase are ceramic. Tucked in between some of the delicate blooms is a notecard. You instantly recognize Kix’s swooping handwriting.

‘I think I need to make an appointment with the Doc, I seem to have been bitten by the love bug. (augh, that was awful, Jesse told me it would be good) I hope you like these, you deserve real ones, but had a local artist make them for you since I won’t be around to make sure real ones never wilt. I’ll see you soon, jahaal'got, on my next shore leave.’

Also Happy Birthday @arctrooper69! (today, May 20th)

#cloneflowerficevent #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #star wars tcw #tcw #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #sw tcw #tcw kix #kix #501st #501st legion #kix x reader #st. john's wort

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marzipanandminutiae · 8 days

Text

Marzi's Old House Supply Kit: A Non-Exhaustive List

So you've moved into an old house! Congratulations! No, no, look at me. Look in my eyes. Congratulations. You don't need smart lighting. You don't need paltry things like "showers that don't make ungodly noises if you set the water outside a very specific temperature range" or "logical staircases." Because those people who say They Built Them Sturdier Back Then is survivorship bias are wrong, lead paint is only a problem if you eat it, and your new home is basically a tank

also it might have stained glass. so basically you win

(no but seriously the Survivorship Bias argument is just like. tell me you don't live in a city with large quantities of remaining working-class 110-year-old buildings without telling me. I do. they're sturdier. end of.)

but you might need some things to make it a bit more comfortable. here's what I've found, over eight years of living in houses built 1920 or earlier

Power strips. Depending on the age of your house, it may or may not have had electricity originally. And even if it did, whoever lived there almost certainly had fewer things to plug in than the average denizen of the 2020s. There also may have been gorgeous wall sconces that some asshole heartlessly ripped out at some point, forcing you to use the hideous hateful Overhead LightTM or plug in a bunch of lamps. Either way, you're going to need to turn that single outlet in the room into several more. Hence, power strips.

(hey, I never said this list was free of my design biases. deal)

A Good Fan. You may live in a place where retrofitting with air conditioning was commonplace in the last several decades. I do not. So a good pedestal fan can make the difference between comfort and just not sleeping at all from late June to mid-September. Weirdly, I did once look at a place that was from the 1850s and had been retrofitted with central A/C, which is vanishingly rare in even urban Massachusetts. But I digress.

A stud-finder. "Marzi, you spent years of your life explaining to tourists that picture rails existed because trying to hammer nails directly into horsehair plaster and then putting weight on them did Bad Things." Yes I did. "What did you attempt to do the second week of living in your first house with horsehair plaster?" ...shut up. I used the Poltergeist Method to find solid wood- I don't know if it's actually studs or the lath or what; I'm not a builder -to hang my Lady and the Unicorn tapestry from, namely knocking on the wall until it doesn't sound hollow. You might want to go a bit quieter and more advanced. Or, if you have a picture rail, embrace the "long visible hanging wires" look. It is in fact there for a reason!

Window screens. You are actually required by Massachusetts state law to provide these to your tenants. Doesn't mean my last landlady did. And if you own your place, live in another state, or have a similarly laissez-faire building owner, you might end up needing to Bring Your Own Insect-Blocking Shield. Just make sure you've got them, one way or the other. Because see above re: fan vs. air conditioning in old houses.

WD-40. When's the last time those hinges were oiled? Potentially before television. And they WILL squeak. UPDATE I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT WD-40 IS NOT A GOOD LONGTERM SOLUTION. Find "actual oil." Not sure what the more specific name is. Good to know!

That's just what I've found needful so far, but I'm happy to update the list as required!

And you'd better believe, if I owned my own place, this would include "the name of a preservation contractor to undo all the unnecessary ~*MoDeRnIzInG*~ aesthetic bullshit the past owners did since the End of Mainstream Western House Beauty AKA 1920 (That Brief Rococo Revival In the 1930s Can Maybe Sit With Us)"

#long post #old houses #I've seen posts on r/Boston complaining about 'crappy old apartments' and longing for the modern Luxury Condos and like #couldn't be me #if this were a city where Old Apartment meant 1950s or later yeah I'd understand that #no beauty to compensate for the Quirks #but there's like a 75% chance you live in a building from 1915 or earlier if you live here #and I cannot relate to wanting to live in Ye IKEA Plastic Construction Hellscape over that #also don't take this in like a marble statue profile pic guy way- I also think older house styles from other parts of the worldwere prettie #than what they have now #and usually sturdier to boot

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berenwrites · 3 months

Text

A Simple Question - Steddie - PG13

for @steddie-week Day 2

Prompt: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

rated pg-13 | 1155 wds | tags: kissing, fluff, everybody lives, post vecna, mentions of sex

Eddie is a little tipsy and he has a question for Nancy.

(Also on AO3)

A Simple Question: Ha! What Boundaries?

Eddie was on his way to drunk, which was why he sat on the couch next to Nancy and cut himself off. Ever since his brush with death, he was something of a lightweight. At least everyone else seemed to be pretty buzzed as well. He’d passed on Argyle’s weed because of the aforementioned lightweight status, but the others hadn’t.

Jon and Argyle were currently lying on the floor having a deeply philosophical discussion about mushrooms, and not even the magic kind. Steve and Robin were draped all over each other in the corner giggling. And Nancy had been staring into space until Eddie sat down.

“Greetings, Wheeler the Badass,” he said with a smile as she looked at him.

“Eddie the Not-So-Banished,” she replied with a smile, “to what do I owe the honour.”

That made Eddie giggle.

“Came to ask you a question,” he told her. “Probably an ill-advised question, but I figured you’re too mellow to hit me.”

Nancy lifted an eyebrow at him for that.

“You’re probably right,” she agreed much to his surprise.

“Really?” he asked, because he would have shut his mouth if she’d objected.

“Really,” she said. “Ask away.”

“So,” he began, drawing out the ‘o’ sound, “Steve…”

“Ah,” Nancy said with a smile that Eddie couldn’t quite interpret.

“What do you mean by ‘ah’?” he asked.

“That your question?” Nancy replied.

“What? No,” he protested.

“You only get one,” Nancy told him.

“You’re changing the rules,” he complained.

“I could go and talk about mushrooms,” Nancy said.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie said, pretty sure if he had had one less beer the conversation would have been a lot less annoying, but then again, they probably wouldn’t have been having it at all. “So, Steve, reputation with the ladies deserved or hyped up?”

Nancy snorted a laugh and patted him on the leg in a rather unsettling way.

“In a sexy way or romantic way?” she asked.

“Um … sexy,” Eddie admitted quietly.

“Totally deserved,” Nancy told him, “and actually in a romantic way too. Probably would have eaten that shit up if, well, the stuff that happened hadn’t.”

She looked sad for a moment, so Eddie patted her hand in what he hoped was a sensitive gesture.

“So totally deserved?” he prodded when no more was forthcoming because his brain to mouth filter was on low power.

“God yes,” Nancy said, turning to look at him. “You would not believe how good he is with his hands, oh and his mouth. Fuck, his hands and mouth in combination.” She beckoned him closer. “Jonathan’s good,” she whispered, “but he’s never given me three orgasms in a row.”

“Three?” Eddie whispered back.

Nancy nodded.

“And that was just for starters,” she assured him. “I think he gets off on getting his partner off,” she revealed.

“Wow,” was the best Eddie could do with that information.

“You should shoot your shot,” Nancy said and all but shocked him sober.

“What … me … but …” he babbled.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Nancy said quietly.

He wondered if she was actually as high as she was pretending, because the look in her eyes was anything but vague.

“I’m that obvious?” he asked, sagging into the couch cushion.

He’d come out as bisexual to this older group of friends when Robin had accidentally outed herself at another of their exclusive get-togethers and panicked. That Steve had known since Starcourt and been Robin’s number one cheerleader really shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it had really.

“Only among friends,” she told him, wrapping her hand in his. “You should talk to him.”

“He’s straight,” Eddie pointed out.

“Not if the way I saw him making out with Argyle is anything to go by,” Nancy replied.

“Argyle?”

“Yes, my dude?” Argyle asked, so possibly Eddie had said that louder than he had meant to.

“Just passing on your haircare tips,” Nancy covered for him.

“Always here if you need advice, Brochacho,” Argyle replied with a wave before going back to talking to Jonathan.

“I couldn’t hear what they were saying,” Nancy said, leaning in again, “but I did see Steve thank Argyle and walk away with that, wow I’ve discovered something face he does when he’s processing new things.”

“The one with the adorable little crease right here?” Eddie asked, pointing to the top of his nose.

Nancy lifted both her eyebrows this time.

“Wow you have it bad,” she commented.

“I know,” he admitted and sighed dramatically. “But he’s Steve and I’m me. He’s an adonis and I’m a wet cat.”

So maybe he deserved the laugh from Nancy for that one.

“Talk to him,” Nancy encouraged.

“But what would I say?” Eddie asked kind of desperately.

“You could try, ‘Steve fancy kissing me’,” an all too familiar voice said from just behind him.

It was at that moment he realised Steve and Robin were no longer in the corner, far, far away from the current conversation. He kind of froze, only turning very, very slowly to find Steve standing directly behind the couch with a couple of cold sodas in his hands.

Apparently, adrenaline was amazing stuff, because Eddie felt one hundred percent sober in that instant. An embarrassing squeak escaped from his throat.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Robin said, throwing herself onto the couch on the other side of Nancy, “the romantic tension was getting really annoying.”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made it to first base with Vicky,” Steve bitched back.

Robin just made a kissy face at him, while Eddie continued to freak out.

He’d been daydreaming about Steve ever since he’d woken up in the hospital with Steve standing guard over him like some angel from heaven. Apparently, nobody argued with Steve Harrington when he looked like he might bring down the wrath of God at any moment, which had given the rest of the Party enough time to get Eddie’s name cleared. The whole ripping a demobat in half had started it for Eddie, and that had totally clinched it.

Steve was looking at him now in that earnest way he had that kind of melted Eddie’s insides.

“Hey Steve,” he finally said, “fancy kissing me?”

It was all kinds of pathetic, but it was all he had.

With a cocky smile, Steve passed the sodas he was holding to Nancy, leaned over the back of the couch and slipped one cold hand into the hair as the base of Eddie’s skull. The kiss was long and deep, and Eddie never wanted it to end. Of course it had to, especially when Jonathan, the traitor, wolf whistled.

Steve picked up a cushion and threw it at Jonathan’s head as Eddie sank back into the couch with what he was sure was a dreamy expression on his face. Nancy leaned in.

“Wait until you get the full magic hands too,” she whispered.

The End

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fluff #romance #eddie lives #post vecna #steve x eddie #steddieweek2024

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official-german-translationen · 7 months

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You know how in languages like english we use shortened words like wtf, sth for something, wbu instead of what about you?

What shorter versions of words is it common to use in german, when texting for example?

Checked through the wikipedia page for the things that i have heard of: wd -> Wieder da -> back [after being afk] hdgdl, hdl -> Hab dich (ganz doll) lieb -> love ya hdf -> Halt die Fresse -> shut up gw -> Glückwunsch -> Contrats kA -> Keine Ahnung -> No idea kp -> Kein Problem -> no problem / kein Plan -> no idea mMn -> meiner Meinung nach -> in my opinion mfg -> Mit freundlichen Grüßen -> with friendly regards [at end of message] mom -> Moment -> one moment please

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warringwarrioridiot · 6 months

Text

I WANT TO FUCKING SCREAM ISTG

WHY CANT I JUST FEEL PRETTY FOR ONCE I FUCKING HATE MY APPEARANCE

I WISH MEN WOULD JUST SHUT UP AND REALIZE THAT WOMEN AREN'T SEX TOYS oH MY GOOODDD

JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE AND LISTEN

WOMEN AREN'T TOOLS

WE HAVE FEELINGS

WE'RE HUMAN BEINGS

I JUST WANT SOME FUCKING LOVE I DON'T WANT TO BE USED IM SO FUCKING SCARED OF HEARTBREAK I CANT EVEN FUCKING BRUNG MYSELF TO OPENLY ADMIT MY FEELINGS BECAUSE IM AFRAID THAT ALL MEN WILL BE THE SAME

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD QUIT ADVERTISING THOSE STUPID WAXING COMMERCIALS AND QUIT MAKING ME FEEL SO FUCKING UGLY

I WISH I NEVER WENT TO PUBLIC SCHOOL BC THATS WHAT STARTED IT ALL

THATS WHEN I BEGAN TO HATE MY FUCKING BODY AND DREAMING OF DEATH

THE FACT THAT MEN WILL TRY TO NORMALIZE RAPE AND CATCALLING MAKES ME WANT TO RIP MY HAIR OUT AND SCREAM

STOP SEXUALIZING WOMEN AND FETISHIZING OUR PAIN

WORDS CAN'T DESCRIBE THE FUCKING RAGE I FEEL WHENEVER SOMEONE SAYS "Boys will be boys ❤️"

LIKE OKAY THEN BETTY GO TO THE FUCKING RETIREMENT HOME

WE'VE BEEN FIGHTING THE SAME FUCKING BATTLE SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME SOLELY BECAUSE MEN WANT TO DO NOTHING BUT VIOLATE US

"Not all men" SHUT UPPPO

WD KNOW NOT ALL MEN DO THAT SHIT SO SHUT THE FUCK UP OH MY FUCKING GOD

I WANT TO KMS WHY ARE MEN SO FUCKING DENSE

I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED

AND THE FACT THAT MEN THINK THAT TIGHTNESS MEANS AROUSAL WHEN ITS THE FUCKING OPPOSITE IS INSANE

MY OWN FATHER, MY OWM FUCKING FATHER, SAID THAT FEMINISM IS AN ANTI-MEN MOVEMENT WHEN ITS THE ONE THING THAT'S GIVING ME HOPE

MEN ARE SO FUCKING DENSE AND CONTROLLING I JUST WISH THEY'D ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP AND JUST SHOW US GENUINE NON-SEXUAL AFFECTION

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greenishghostey · 2 years

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Eddie wanting to spend time w you but you have sleepy bitch disease so he just does his normal stuff but ur taking a nap on his bed

As someone with the sleepy bitch disease, this is very much MY JAM

///

You and Eddie had been together for a little over a year, and in that time, Eddie had become intimately aware of your love for sleep. Sure, he loved lying in until noon as much as the next person, but you took it to another level. The term 'heavy sleeper' was an insult to you, in his opinion.

The peak of your sleeping ability - he had started thinking it was like a superpower of something - came during a stormy night in September. Hailstones, sheets of rain and violent wind battered his trailer for hours into the night. Eddie got maybe an hour or two of sleep that night, but you were essentially dead to the world once you got snuggled into his bed. He had opted to being your pillow that night since you had been pulling him to your chest and making little tired noises that made him melt - not he was going to openly admit that to you, obviously.

Once December hit, the trailer would be near sub-zero by the time the sun went down. Eddie and Wayne had done all they could to seal with windows and doors, trying to trap the heat in as best they could. Eddie suggested window sealant, but Wayne shut down that idea very quickly since he wanted to get his deposit on the place back eventually.

You had been coming to stay the night at the trailer, and Eddie was initially stressed about you being too cold at night. Which, in his mind, would lead to you never coming to stay again, and everything would fall apart afterwards. A cold trailer was not going to impede your deep sleeping, though. While Eddie wasn't the warmest person to cuddle up to, he had compensated by piling pillows and blankets into his bed.

Once Eddie had picked you up from your shift at the library, you would immediately beeline for the bed fort that he had constructed for you both. Admittedly, the cold had made you even more tired than you normally would have been after work. The heater that was kept in the office had started leaking that afternoon, so you and your co-workers had been working in your scarves and gloves until closing.

Eddie always had a small smile on his face when you dozed off. His girl bundled up in his bed, where you belonged. He was all too aware of how rough work had been on you lately, so he decided to get started on some chores and dinner for when you woke up.

Most people would think that Eddie was incapable of being quiet, but he was quite the opposite. If anything, him being so loud was a front for him enjoying the mundane hum of the trailer and you shifting around in his bed. He tried to walk as lightly as possible while gathering up laundry around his room - some of it was his clothes and some of it was yours. The washing machine would be loud as fuck but you slept through a snowstorm once, you’d be fine.

With the laundry on and a pot of spaghetti simmering, Eddie felt a weird but nice wave of domestic bliss. Would it be like this when you guys moved in together? Maybe the whole househusband thing could work for him - a bit unconventional, but that was basically his middle name. You had told him on several occasions that he looked good in an apron.

His bedroom door had always been squeaky, no matter how much WD-40 he caked on the hinges. Eddie wanted to grab his acoustic guitar to get some practice in while dinner cooked. You’d mentioned liking ‘Trust Me’ by Janis Joplin when digging through Wayne’s records, so Eddie was secretly learning it - Joplin wasn’t exactly his usual choice of music, but she was pretty hardcore, in his opinion.

His socked feet made it to his guitar before you mumbled and gestured him to you, “You’re in the apron.”

Your eyes were still closed while a sleepy grin wormed across your face. Eddie was about ready to pounce and forget about dinner. “‘M making dinner. And cleaning stuff. Was gonna dance with the vacuum for you, but thought that might be a bit too much.”

“When’s that ever been something you worried about?” You laughed.

“Didn’t want to wake you.” Eddie smiled, kneeing by your side of the bed and moving hair from your face. “Plus, I can’t dance. You said it yourself.” He pouted and wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“I only said that because you were drunk and about to get on that coffee table.” You fondly remembered that party from a few months back. Eddie had actually danced with you pretty well when you both went outside for some air. He did try to dip you and dropped you on the front lawn, but at least he tried.

“And I would have been fine. Five beers and I’m ready to go.” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You snorted and lightly shoved his face away from you.

“It was a glass coffee table, babe.”

“It was Steve’s coffee table, babe. His folks could afford a replacement.”

“Yeah, but it’d end up coming out of your pocket. His dad’s a big bitch about money, remember?”

He pouted at you once again, but decided to properly retaliate this time. You barked out a laugh when he gathered you up in one of the blankets and hauled you up.

“You’ve disturbed my beauty rest.” You grumbled, standing up still wrapped in your blanket cocoon.

“You don’t need it.” He quipped, giving you a big smile when you gagged. Eddie knew you liked his cheesy compliments, but the fake disdain was still funny. “Besides, we gotta eat. It’s almost 10.”

You grimaced when he placed a sloppy kiss on your forehead. “Is that why I hear a pot boiling over?”

“Fuck, fuck, shit fuck.” Instead of immediately run to the kitchen, Eddie started to essentially sheep dog you along with him. Like you, in your still sleepy state, would be of any help. But it was nice to be considered.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #fluff #fic #eddie #my writing #also everyone go listen to the Janis Joplin song because it’s good and quite sweet

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4awny · 2 years

Text

Sp Driving Headcanons that literally nobody asked for

Stan:-

first one to get his licence obvs

usually a calm and defensive driver

gets a scratch on his car and says aw man my dad's gonna kill me

even when he's 30

drives drunk probably

car is a mess. shit everywhere

overall? man can drive. 8/10

Kenny:-

doesn't have licence. couldn't afford that shit

drives anyway

and it's his brother's piece of shit car

can't park for shit, usually just hopes for the best

has a bunch of naughty bumper stickers for sure

can fix his own car

something always broken

huge dent on the side. "jeez man, how did that get there?"

knowing full well it was a hit and run

felt bad so left a note on the dude's car: hit your car but I'm broke and dont have a licence. my bad sorry. hope you get it fixed

somehow never gets pulled over

overall, dude shouldn't even be on the road. 1/10

Kyle:-

suspect to road rage. man's got issues

hates traffic with a white hot passion

no one is allowed to eat in his car... ever.

cartman is the only one that ignores this rule and is constantly hiding wrappers in random places to annoy him

it annoys him

has run a red light on more than a few occasions

got caught speeding. argued his way out of it. thanks dad

overall, a decent driver but mf needs to chill. 7/10

Cartman:-

hates slow drivers

will happily park in disabled spots

and will say "not every disability is visible!"

and then actually gets offended when someone calls him out for doing it

usually kyle

the type of asshole to say "someone better have died for this" when driving past a collision that got him stuck on the highway for 2 hours

tailgates people for fun

hates being tailgated

gets cut off. follows them for 20 mins just to call them a useless cunt

1 ticket away from losing his licence

overall? 4/10. enuff said

Butters:-

taps the wheel along to songs

sings a lot

sometimes oblivious to road signs

because he's usually looking at the scenery around him

drives 10mph under the speed limit

just to be safe

always offers to drive the guys

the guys: 😒😒😒😒

overall, 6/10. score would be higher if the singing stopped

Craig:-

finds driving a chore

but also likes having his own transport so he can bail anytime he wants

like that one time clyde surprised him with a huge birthday party. but that's another story

parks at the back of the parking lot

then regrets it when it rains

never gets to play his own music, because whoever's in the front is in charge of the bluetooth. it's always clyde

mf always giving lifts to people

for free too

always questions himself why he does it

overall, dude deserves a medal for putting up with so much shit. 10/10

Clyde:-

never drives. simple as that

thank fuck for craig and drive thrus, huh

overall, the leech gets a solid 0/10 and that's being generous

Tweek:-

6 failed attempts before he eventually passed

thought he was cursed

turns out he cant drive for shit

only drives to places he's familiar with

so basically a 3 mile radius from his house

drives in silence. man cannot concentrate

tells people to shut up if they are talking to him when he's driving

like I said, man cannot concentrate

overall? I mean, at least he tries. 5/10 for effort

Tolkien:-

listens to the same radio station

pretty observant. can see the accident before it even happens

the most sensible driver out of everyone

somehow never gets asked to drive tho

takes advantage of that

always offers to pay for gas

is the only one that does

overall, a great driver. 9/10. wd buddy

#thanks for coming gang #about time i contributed #south park #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #clyde donovan #tolkien black #token black #tweek tweak #butters stotch #southpark #south park headcanons

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cliophilyra · 8 days

Text

Desk Defying

Saltommy | E | 2463 wds | No warnings

Here is the Gerrard’s desk pwp that I have been banging on about for god knows how long! I hope you like it! Apologies for the horrible pun in the title. Warning for one instance of homophobic language right off the bat.

“Jesus christ, you ever see such a pair of fairies?” Gerrard laughs as he jumps down from the engine, shaking his head.

Tommy’s chest clenches, cold sweat prickling at his skin. He doesn’t say anything. He just pictures the couple at the accident they’d just attended, how scared they had been for each other. How grateful that they had both gotten out safely.

If looks could kill, the scowl that Sal aims at Gerrard’s back would explode him in a shower of red mist. Tommy reaches out and grabs his partner’s wrist, yanking him to a stop as he’s about to follow the old bastard to the locker room and probably commit murder. Sal spins on his heel, turning the head-exploding look onto Tommy for a moment before he shakes his hand free and stalks away. Tommy clenches his jaw but he follows him because it’s what he does.

Upstairs Sal storms through the kitchen and down the corridor, propelled by righteous fury, anyone unlucky enough to get in their way quickly melts away as they pass. Sal slams open the door to Gerrard’s empty office and before Tommy can ask him what the hell is going on Sal turns around, grabs the front of his t-shirt and hauls him in, crushing their lips together.

(keep reading below or on AO3)

Tommy grunts in surprise as Sal uses his body to slam the door shut behind them, still kissing him like it’s his entire job, but also like he’s really pissed about it. There’s too much teeth and tongue and his grip on Tommy’s shirt is too tight, his blunt nails scrape at his chest through the thin fabric and the thick thigh he shoves between Tommy’s legs presses just this side of too hard.

At first Tommy kisses him back with the same ferocity, shoving his hands into his hair and rutting desperately against his leg, but as Sal’s hands move from his chest to his zipper his breath stutters and he comes up for air with a gasp. Sal scowls at him as he pulls away, eyes nearly black with lust and fury.

“Jesus Sal, what the fuck?” Tommy hisses, blinking away the sparks that dart behind his eyes.

Sal looks at him like he still wants to explode something with his mind, chest rising and falling hard. “Shut up and let me fuck you,” he says, grabbing Tommy again and manhandling him further into the room, plunging his tongue into his mouth as he walks him backwards towards Gerrard’s desk, both hands gripping the back of his head.

Tommy moans, trying not to trip over his feet. Sal’s words go straight to his dick, very nearly bypassing his brain altogether. Someone’s got to be the sane one here though, so he pulls away again, unable to resist dragging his teeth over Sal’s plush bottom lip just a little, relishing the angry whine that comes from his throat, somewhere between furious and needy.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Tommy whispers. “I am not fucking you in Gerrard’s office.”

“No, I am fucking you in his office,” Sal growls, “Pay attention firefighter.”

The desk abruptly hits the back of Tommy’s legs and he sits down hard, nearly biting his own tongue. “What the fuck, we are not--”

“I’m so fucking sick of him Tom,” Sal snarls, interrupting him. “I've had enough, I don't know what I'm gonna do but I'm gonna do something. Every day it’s another fucking snide remark, another twisted, piece of shit joke. The way he looked at those two guys, like they were shit on his shoe. Fuck!” he shakes his head. “Then he looks at me – at you – like we’re gonna fucking back him up, and all I can think of is how I spent last Saturday with your cock up my ass.” The whole time he’s talking he’s also pulling Tommy’s t-shirt out of his waistband, undoing his belt and his zipper with quick, angry fingers.

Tommy, despite the panic gripping his chest, is markedly not stopping him. His breathing is shallow and fast, making him light-headed and desperate to touch the man in front of him. He grabs at Sal’s broad shoulders and drags him into another kiss, wrapping his legs around his hips, pulling him forward. Feeling his righteous anger spill over into him.

Sal moans against his lips and shoves a hand into his pants, wrapping it around his cock, which is already hard, fully overriding the more sensible parts of his brain. Tommys mouth drops open as his head falls against Sal’s shoulder, burying his moan in the fabric of his shirt.

“This...fuck...this is probably a bad idea,” he mumbles, fumbling for the button of Sal’s pants as his fist slides over Tommy’s cock.

“Probably,” Sal agrees, tightening his grip slightly, mouthing at Tommy’s throat, licking over the pulse that hammers against his lips.

“What if he comes back?”

“I could care less. If there’s any justice in the world he’ll have a heart attack and drop dead on the fucking carpet,” Sal mutters, kissing the bolt of his jaw.

Tommy huffs a laugh, craning his neck to give him better access, panting as Sal‘s hand speeds up, sending sparks up his spine. There is no way this ends up being a good idea but he realizes he doesn’t care either. He wants Sal and he hates Gerrard. If they get fired at least they went out in style. He digs his fingers into Sal’s hair and brings their mouths together again with a crash, spreading his legs wider, pulling Sal against him, taking both their cocks in his hand, stroking them hard and fast.

Sal makes a choked-off sound and reaches for Tommy’s ass, gripping him with both hands and hauling him forward, lifting him half off the desk.

“Holy shit Sal,” Tommy gasps into his mouth, head spinning, mouth open, hand moving faster, slick with precum that soaks them both, coating his fingers. He already feels like he won’t last long. The look in Sal’s eyes is feverish, his eyes are bright in the gloom of the unlit room and he looks like he wants to eat Tommy alive. He pants against his neck, biting down where his neck meets the thick muscle of his shoulder, sucking hard enough to bruise. Tommy swears.

“Fuck. Want them all to see,” Sal pants. “Want them to know. Even if we don’t get caught.”

Tommy nearly comes just at that, the idea of the rest of the firehouse seeing the bruises on his neck in the locker room, the marks of Sal’s teeth on his skin. He shivers, tightening his grip on them both.

“If you wanna fuck me you better do it,” he pants. “Not gonna last much longer.”

Sal grins and produces a packet of lube from his pocket with a flourish.

“Been planning this?” Tommy asks with a breathy laugh.

“Oh I’m always prepared Kinard, like a good boy scout.” Sal sucks one more mark into Tommy’s throat then pulls him to his feet, spins him and shoves him down, one big hand between his shoulder blades. The sound that comes from Tommy’s throat as his hands slam against the desk while Sal shoves his pants the rest of the way down, is one he swears he never even thought he was capable of. He feels desperate, wild and untethered, uncaring. He needs to show the bastard, even if he doesn’t actually see them. This feels like the ultimate fuck you.

“Come on baby, fuck me,” he hisses, grinding himself back against Sal’s hand, papers sliding under his palms as he struggles briefly for purchase, arms braced against the shiny wood. He hears the tearing of the packet and the wet sound of the lube as Sal slicks himself up, then he feels the blunt head of Sal’s cock at his entrance. He doesn’t press in right away, instead he holds himself, sliding his hot, slick cock slowly against Tommy’s hole. Tommy feels like his whole body is a high tension wire, every nudge of Sal’s big cock against him making his skin buzz, emptying his brain of everything but his need to be filled up.

“You like that?” Sal says, not even whispering, just conversational volume. Tommy nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“You want my cock?”

Tommy nods again.

“Use your words baby,” Sal says.

“Yes,” Tommy says in a harsh whisper.

“Can’t hear you sweetheart,” Sal says, pressing forward a fraction of an inch, the head of his cock just pushing past Tommy’s rim.

“Y-fuck-yes,” Tommy repeats, fractionally louder, spreading his legs wider. He knows this room isn’t exactly soundproof, knows too well that you can hear pretty clearly from the kitchen when people are getting yelled at in here. The moment that thought crosses his mind Tommy feels his cock twitch and...oh.

Suddenly the teasing pressure of Sal’s cock is gone and Tommy makes a desperate sound, pushing back against nothing. Sal grips his ass, pulling him gently apart and then suddenly there’s a warm, wetness against his sensitive skin and his eyes widen as he realizes Sal is on his knees, running his wide tongue up over his hole, teasing the rim, circling him slowly.

“Holy fuck!’ Tommy gasps, much louder, pushing back involuntarily. “Shit!” he half turns his head, sinking his teeth into his own bicep, desperate to muffle himself.

Sal pulls back, sitting back on his heels and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of Tommy’s ass, biting gently as he runs his hands up over his hips. “That’s better,” he says and Tommy can hear the smirk in his voice as he stands.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

His cock is pressing against Tommy’s ass again, sliding forward slowly. Tommy closes his eyes.

“I think you want them all to hear you,” Sal murmurs, leaning over him, pushing deeper into him.

Tommy’s cock jumps again, hard.

Fuck it.

“Want you to fuck me,” he says, at normal volume. “I want you to fuck me over that bastard’s desk, make me come all over it.”

Sal lets out a groan that could probably be heard down in the locker rooms as he bottoms out, one hand splayed across Tommy’s back, holding him down. Tommy moans, feeling uncontrollable and insane as Sal’s cock fills him up. He arches his back, pushing back against him, choking out a ragged sound as Sal begins to move. He feels wanton in a way he has never let himself feel before. Like he doesn’t care. Like the only things that matter are the way he feels when Sal fucks him, that edge of freedom, the pleasure that shoots up his spine every time he thrusts into him, the broken sounds that shake loose from his throat when Sal’s cock nails his prostate, the shuddering relief when he cums.

His cock is rock hard under him, trapped between his own body and the desk, almost painful, leaking precum onto the glossy surface. Sal snaps his hips forward, slamming into him, making him gasp as he fucks into him, the table creaking under his weight. Sal slides his hand up his back, burying his fingers into his hair, dragging his head up to kiss him, open mouthed and filthy, wrapping one hand loosely around his throat. Tommy’s mind whites out at the sensation of Sal’s fingers on his neck, curling against his Adam’s apple, pressing just a little harder as he thrusts into him, his cock filling him while his tongue licks into his mouth.

“F--fuck--yes jesus fuck—baby,” Sal groans nonsense against his mouth, hips stuttering. “Wanna cum inside you.”

Tommy nods furiously, he is beyond giving the tiniest shit about discretion or the possibility of someone walking in now. His whole world has narrowed down to Sal’s cock. His head is full of stars and he feels like he’s floating. He can’t feel anything but the heat of Sal’s body against his back, the strength of his fingers, the slide of his cock, the slap of Sal’s skin against his, his breath against his lips. Sal’s hand that isn’t on his throat slides down his chest, fumbling between them to get a grip on Tommy’s cock. Tommy closes his eyes, rutting forward into Sal’s hand as his fist slides over him, faster and faster, in sync with his own thrusts.

“Gonna cum for me?” Sal hisses. “Wanna make you cum your brains out on his fucking desk.”

Tommy shudders as he cums hard in Sal’s hand, cock jerking, head empty, mouth open, thick ropes of cum splattering across the desk under him. Sal makes a strangled sound as his rhythm falters, fingers tightening reflexively as he unloads into him with a deep groan.

“Holy fuck,” Sal swears after a moment’s stunned silence. Tommy’s brain is still pretty much offline. He groans as Sal pulls out, feeling his cum drip down his ass. Sal slides his thumb over his sensitive hole, making him hiss. “Fuck me, that was good,” Sal sighs as he straightens up, sounding calmer than Tommy thinks he’s heard him sound for months.

From somewhere outside the office comes the piercing sound of someone whistling. Sal slaps Tommy’s hip. “Here we go,” he hisses with a grin, zipping his pants back up.

Tommy straightens up quickly with a groan, rearranging his pants and zipping up his fly, grimacing at the tacky feeling of drying cum. The hem of his t-shirt is also distinctly sticky, he tucks it into his waistband, covering the worst of it. Sal looks at him and rolls his eyes. Tommy shrugs.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Sal sighs dramatically. He grabs a handful of papers off the desk that have been - compromised - and uses them to wipe up any other visible substances before screwing them into a ball and throwing them in the trash. He gives the rest of the room a cursory glance and nods. “That’ll do.” He looks at Tommy who is trying to smooth down his hair.

“Yeah that’s a losing battle,” he grins, reaching up to run his fingers through it. Tommy smiles and presses his thumb to Sal’s lip. “No time for sappy shit Kinard,” Sal smirks but his eyes are soft.

Tommy opens the door slowly, no sign of anyone. They both walk out, heading back to the unusually empty kitchen. Just as they’re in sight of it Gerrard appears. “Where’ve you two been?” he snaps, frowning as if noticing their slightly disheveled appearance.

Sal smiles, not missing a beat. “Waiting for you Sir, got a question about my shifts next month,” he says easily, turning on his heel and holding out an arm to guide the older man back down the corridor towards his office.

Tommy folds his arms and watches with a grin as Gerrard opens his door and Sal follows him in.

#saltommy #911 abc #writing

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