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i-am-beckyu · 6 months ago

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Patience is a Virtue and Trust is Earned

A continuation of my Christmas fic One Small Gift

AYOOOOO! 3RD YEAR IN A ROW I'VE WRITTEN A CHRISTMAS FIC! LETS GO! I've been writing this fic on and off for almost a year ever since posting the first fic and got a few people wanting a sequel so congratulations!! You got your wish!!!

I recommend reading the first fic if you haven't already as this fic references plot that may not make sense without context so please consider reading it first before reading on. I'm gonna ramble on at the end of this fic but without further ado, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND ENJOY!!!

cw: fear, lying, panic and anxiety, hidden identity, magic and a TONNE of fluff and whimsey!

word count: 9180

Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

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Borrowers.

Tiny scavengers that take human things for survival.

Well, that’s what all the articles say.

Wilbur leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His back popped from the unhealthy way he’d been hunched over his computer for the last few hours, but he hardly noticed as he scrolled the internet.

“Yet another useless article that tells me nothing about how to actually coax one out.” He sighed dejectedly.

Now you are absolutely right, he should be studying right now while at University and not googling Borrowers again for the millionth time, but it’s not like he wanted to risk doing it at home. No way was he going to jeopardise having Tommy leave.

It had been a few weeks since Wilbur had met the young boy that fateful Christmas Eve and he was positive they hadn’t left. Not when he was now able to recognise the tell tale signs of a scavenger living in his walls. But the man was getting a tad testy about not being able to speak to them in person.

Over and over Wilbur had to tell himself that Tommy trusted Santa Claus, not him. If they ever got a tiny hint that he knew of their existence, then that would be it and the boy would be gone. If a Borrower was seen, the rule they set for themselves was they had to leave no matter the circumstances. Staying after being seen was an absolute no no and never worth the risk. The articles had been very extensive on that point.

His other option to try and unknowingly lure the boy out wasn’t going very well either. Every idea seemed either too obvious, or too dangerous to attempt. (No he definitely did not consider using a mouse trap…)

Tommy was smart enough to avoid those anyway.

But he couldn’t ignore the growing urge to speak to them despite how foolish it would be to do so. It’s not like he could just walk straight up to Tommy’s wall and be like: “Hi I’m Wilbur but you already know that and I know you’re living in my walls. Sorry for ruining your house and kidnapping you haha.”

…

Yeah that would definitely send Tommy packing.

So like anyone does when they’ve run out of ideas, Wilbur rushed to the internet and started doing his research.

Borrowers- who are they, and how to befriend one.

Surprisingly, it seemed there were definitely people who knew about them. The few articles proof enough; but no one seemed to know anything further or wanted to speak up about how they knew what they did. The few authors or bloggers he’d emailed ended up ghosting him when asked to elaborate or rudely shut him down (looking at you PandasCanPVP) and though it did make sense they didn’t answer his questions; protect the borrowers and their code etc, it was still damn frustrating that no one was open to helping him.

He’d at least done a few things to aid Tommy a bit more. He left more food out for longer than required and on the lower shelves so the blonde didn’t have to go to such lengths for a meal, and he’d creatively turned an unused draw into a junk draw and filled it with a bunch of mismatched items with multiples of each so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about him getting suspicious. (He definitely did not smile when he counted 6 paper clips instead of 7)

But there wasn’t really anything more he could do in terms of coaxing Tommy out. Wilbur just had to hope that either his message as Santa got through to him, or that he’d catch sight of Tommy one day and have an opportunity to acknowledge his existence. He hoped for the first of the two, but he’d take either to just make progress with the boy at all.

At least he had peace of mind they were doing better now then they had been before Christmas Eve. Niki was an absolute legend for helping him make all those tiny gifts. So yes he owed Nicki a massive favour when he absolutely bamboozled her for showing up outside her front door in the middle of the night and begged her for help to make tiny clothes for Tommy without explaining what for and why he needed them done that night. And yes he’d had to suck it up Christmas Day when he was tired as hell from working through the night to do it, but not for a second did Wilbur regret it when he knew how happy those gifts would have made the Borrower child.

It took everything in him not to tell his family about the encounter too, not wanting to risk the blonde hearing him, but it was for the best. One day it was going to pay off and then he could properly apologise for what he had done and get Tommy home.

Even if it meant he’d never really get to know the little guy, he would do it!

And that was a promise.

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This Wilbur guy was weird.

Did he have any reasons to back that statement up?

NOPE!

Wilbur was just decidedly a wrong-un and that was a good enough reason for him to accept.

Tommy had been finding his time in Wilbur’s walls a lot more pleasant now that he had some proper supplies. Santa really did spoil him rotten with all the extra gifts and was making getting by so much more achievable than what he had been previously. Even before his kidnapping, living in the forest certainly did not come with quite the same number of luxuries that living in a Human Beans house did.

For one: Constant food source.

Wilbur was one sloppy guy.

Bean did not seem very keen on putting things away properly before he left the house for hours at a time for this ‘You-knee-verse-it-tea’ thingy he went to for school. Anyone normal would probably think he was a slob, but for Tommy it was the golden ticket to trying foods he’d never even dreamed of! Did you know bread could actually taste good when it wasn’t mouldy?

Wilbur’s house was just a treasure trove of things to borrow from and Tommy had pretty much anything and everything he could ever want here. He still had plans to get back to his nook home, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to stay for awhile longer while he figured out where home actually was.

There wasn’t really a rush to leave with all the snow still about anyways. He couldn’t be the bestest Borrower ever if he was frozen solid before he got home, but he couldn’t help but think about what Santa had said.

‘He’s not as scary as you think’

After the whole meeting with the REAL Santa, Tommy hadn’t felt the same. After being so used to the isolation of the forest, physically talking to someone that wasn’t an animal or a tree had left the Borrower a tad empty. He’d spoken to someone, and they had spoken and listened back. The candy cane card sat in front of his bed and every day Tommy would wake up and reread the message and reminisce about that fateful night.

It seemed bonkers to the boy, the idea of actually speaking to another Human Bean, but Santa’s kindness and words seemed to ring loud in his head. He’d been longing to talk to someone again for so long, and after observing Wilbur all this time; the Bean hadn’t done anything to suggest that they were a bad person. Believing that Santa was telling the truth wasn’t hard, but the thought of willingly revealing himself? Well it was easier said than done.

Because what if Santa was wrong?

What if Wilbur was kind to other Beans but looked at him and decided he was more of a ‘Tommy shaped pet’ instead of an actual person? Just what would he do when he held all power over him? He would be powerless to stop them and could quite easily end off worse than where he started.

Tommy tried to shake the thoughts away before he thought too hard about it.

Wilbur would never catch him.

That wasn’t going to happen if he could help it.

Speak of the devil and they shall appear, as the sound of faint keys being slid into a lock as it clicked, signalled the return of said Bean. The man gently opened and shut the door as they sighed before walking into the kitchen, as Tommy listened intently to their routine.

Put their bag down on the table. Open and close the fridge Shuffle through the cupboards for something to eat. Take out a box of half eaten crackers. Eat one and toss the rest on the bench for later.

Move into the bedroom to relax and close the door with a soft-

‘Click’

Tommy grinned mischievously to himself.

Now was his time to shine.

It might be foolish to any other Borrower to take food while a Bean was actively awake and home, but Tommy had seen Wilbur do this enough times to know now that that man was not going anywhere for at least another 20 to 40 minutes while they de-stressed their day away watching Tikky Toks on their phone, and there was no way he was wasting the opportunity to get food while it was easy access on the bench right now.

Silently, Tommy grabbed his hook and borrowing bag as he made his way through the maze of walls to the kitchen outlet. Just a quick trip and Dinner would be acquired.

Easy.

With little effort, Tommy slipped the electrical cover off the outlet to the kitchen, double checking the coast was clear before making a move straight for the crackers.

“Ugh, Seaweed again?” Tommy scrunched his nose up at the obnoxious packaging.

He really shouldn’t be complaining about the easy borrow, but the blonde knew there were BBQ flavoured ones up on the high shelf he couldn’t reach. Stupid Wilbur gatekeeping his favourite snacks. Okay, unknowingly sure, but come on; Seaweed? The same stuff fish eat? Yuck.

Secretly the boy actually didn’t mind them too much but it does get a bit much eating the same thing 5 nights in a row. Better plan a supply trip to the high shelves next time Wilbur’s out to get stocked up with a bit more variety Tommy decided, as he opened his bag and stored a broken up cracker.

As he gathered up his borrowings, the unusual pangs of an instrument in pain sounded down the hall. Tommy gasped as he sped up his movements before grabbing his hook and hastily making his way down to the ground. Another few pangs of an off note sounded through the walls as Wilbur messed with his guitar strings.

Looked like it was dinner and a show tonight!

Lady Life’s music of the Forest was good and all, but Tommy never knew music like Wilbur’s even existed till he got to experience it one night. It was just like tonight, Wilbur in the other room with Tommy borrowing before the man started doing what was called ‘tuning the guitar’ to get the instrument in the right key.

Tommy thought he’d been destroying the poor instrument until they started playing a song he didn’t know. The brunette had talent and listening to them play felt like a private concert just for him. It wasn’t long before Tommy had crossed the kitchen and was back in the walls to Wilbur’s bedroom, nestled atop the Bean’s shelf out of sight in a discarded Beanie.

The soft strum of the guitar filled the room and Tommy found himself relaxing to the constant rhythm. It was easy to just let himself drift and sway with the melody. The way it put him at ease was almost hypnotic, but the boy found he didn’t care if it meant he could indulge in it forever.

Wilbur had been working on this song for awhile and it had quickly become one of his favourites. There were many times he had wanted nothing more than to cheer and clap whenever the Human Bean had finished playing, but the lingering fear of being caught was ever present in the boy's mind. This however didn’t seem to defer his ever growing loneliness.

‘Would it be so bad if he were to talk to Wilbur?’

‘What if he was one of the so-called good Beans?’

‘What if he had a chance to make a friend?’

Tommy peaked over the edge of the shelf down to where Wilbur was busy absorbed in his playing. How would he even approach them? It’s not like he could just walk out into the open and be like: ‘Hi I’m Tommy and I’ve been living in your walls ever since you kidnapped me and using all your stuff. Want to be friends?’

…

Yeah that’s definitely going to result in him winding up in a jar or something.

If only Santa Claus was still here. It was his suggestion to befriend them in the first place so he’d probably know exactly what to say and do.

Wait, THAT WAS IT!!!

Why didn’t he think of this sooner? Why not just ask Santa what to do! It made perfect sense! He’s a Bean and talks to them all the time so obviously he would know exactly how he could approach them!

Tommy crept back into the walls and quickly ran off in the direction of the house's study.

He had a letter to write.

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“Okay, Dear Santa…” Tommy said out loud as he began to write in his best handwriting.

As soon as he’d found an unused marker in the study, Tommy had been quick to fashion it into one his size from the red tip. His hands had been stained red, but red was the poggest colour ever so he didn’t mind. He had gone to start writing a letter with some borrowed paper back in his home that night, but quickly realised Santa probably wouldn’t be able to read his letter if the letter was written in his regular handwriting- AKA too small to read with Santa’s bad eyesight from being old. This would require a bigger piece of paper and writing with his Big Man writing skills!

That also meant needing a bigger piece of paper and room to write it which meant waiting for Wilbur to leave and that took far too long with it being a Sunday. Tommy had had to wait HOURS for Wilbur to leave to do the grocery shopping, but at least it meant he’d be out for awhile and the Bean had left the kitchen window open, so it was a good day to enjoy some fresh air, albeit if it was a bit cold still and windy.

So with his new marker in hand and a few sheets of Wilbur's scrap pieces of paper from the Kitchen, Tommy now had everything he could possibly need to write his letter.

“Dear Santa.”

…

“---Dear Santa?”

… … …

“Dear Santaaaaaaaa UGHHH WHY IS THIS SO HARD!?”

Well, everything but the right words…

“It shouldn’t be this difficult!” The boy complained, as he crossed out another attempt at writing.

“Dear Santa, so you know how you said to talk to Wilbitch? How exactly do I do that?”

Tommy groaned as he furiously scribbled over the dear santa line before flopping himself on top of the stack of papers. He had been trying to write this letter for 15 minutes and he was getting frustrated. He just didn’t know how to start the letter.

Get straight to the point or ease into?

Is there even a way to write a letter correctly?

6 year old Beans do this for goodness sake!

He just wanted to ask for the best way to approach Wilbur without the worst occurring. He knew the Beans schedule so he could probably work out a good time to talk to them based on their mood but he also still had to get over the idea of willingly exposing himself and that he definitely needed Santa’s help with. Not to forget to mention he still had to thank Santa for all his gifts too! He honestly couldn’t thank him enough for what he had done and the Borrower wanted the old man to know that.

Perhaps just being honest would be the best way to write this? Get it all down in one go and out in the open so he and Santa were completely on the same page. It was at least worth a shot. Wilbur would be back soon and he needed to get something written before that. With a little more internal deliberation, Tommy took a deep breath, and began to write.

Line after line the Borrower wrote his letter- as well as stopping to rest his aching hand as the letter grew longer letting the words flow as best he could. It wasn’t perfect, but then again he added pictures and doodles to make it better so he’s pretty sure that evens it out.

The last thing he needed to do was address the letter to Santa and get it to the letterbox. With his best precision skills, Tommy folded the letter in half and wrote on the front in his best writing.

TO: SANTA

NORTH POLE

Once he was done, Tommy stepped back to admire his handy work.

It was a bit wonky and anything but fancy, but for the first letter he’s ever written, it wasn’t too bad for a giant letter written by a Borrower.

Now all that was left was to deliver it. The boy quickly put his marker away into his borrowing bag and cleaned up the stack of papers back into a neat pile like how he found it, discarding any of his first bad attempts in the bottom of the bin where Wilbur wouldn’t find it, before moving to the window with the letter in tow.

Now the best way to get the letter to Santa would be to post it and Tommy had seen some Human Beans put letters in their letter box before on the big black box, and then they were taken to be delivered like magic, so that made the most logical sense to him. He’d have to go outside to send it, but if he went now and waited till the sun went down, he would be able to scale the letterbox under the cover of darkness and do it with less risk.

Tommy set the letter down beside him as he prepared to descend from the window sill to the outside world. The wind had picked up a little bit, but the Borrower was confident in his abilities to scale down the wall without any issues. Just like climbing up and down the trees back in the forest. Hook in, and descend down. Piece of cake.

Once he was sure his hook was secure, Tommy gathered up the letter in one arm before raising his other to shield his eyes from the setting sun, basking in the serenity of the afternoon as a chilly breeze blew through his golden curls.

Tommy exhaled a content sigh. He missed watching the sunset through the trees of the forest, the soft music of trees swaying and birds chirping as they did their birdie things. Hopefully he’d be reunited with his old nook and could enjoy them like he once did again soon. His letter was sure to fix everything.

Santa would fix everything.

Tommy gently closed his eyes to savour the feeling one last time, but the boy lingered for just a moment too long as a strong gust of wind was all it took to throw the Borrower off balance and snatch his letter from his grasp, sending it flying off with the wind.

“NO!” The blonde shouted, watching as his letter drifted left and right off into the distance.

It was almost magical in a sense, as he watched how it danced through the air and Tommy had to wonder, what if that was intentional. Santa had managed to do things he didn’t think possible with his magic, so perhaps he knew when letters were addressed to him and sent a magic wind to collect it for him?

Yeah that made sense! Good old Santa Claus looking out for his favourite Borrower! Prime he should have thanked Santa more in his letter.

Satisfied with coming to this conclusion, Tommy packed up his gear before heading back to the walls for a well deserved rest; blissfully unaware of the true whereabouts of his letter as it drifted through the wind over buildings and roads, before finally flying straight into a certain brunettes face on his way back from the shops.

“What on Earth?!” Wilbur grabbed at the piece of paper from his face prepared to throw it away before abruptly coming to a stop to read the bright, red scrawl across the front.

“Okay, interesting spelling.” Wilbur examined the poorly addressed letter.

It was obviously a lost Christmas letter written on what looked like sheet music from some kid judging by the spelling and array of doodles. Little faces in the O’s to make it look like Santa, but obnoxiously written in capital letters to make it stand out. It made him think of Tommy and how he went into all the finer details of his life that he couldn’t help but opt to read the childish letter and pique his growing curiosity.

Dear Santa

Hi, it's Tommy! TommyInnit the Borrower you spoke to on Christinimass Eve. I’m sure I don’t need to explain which Tommy to you being the most amazing Tommy to exist ever but anyways I’m writing this letter to ask for your help.

Firstly, thank you for all the pogger gifts. They’re all so AWESOME so thank you! (Like seriously, you are the Greatest Man alive- After me of course >:3 )

Anyways, the reason I sent you this letter. You know Wilbitch Wilbur? The Human Bean that kidnapped me? Well I’ve decided to be the bigger man and befriend him despite him kidnapping me and destroying my home (You know it’s still in his living room slowly dying? Weirdo).

Thing is, I don’t really know how to do that. I know you said I can trust him, but I’m still scared of what he might do to me if he finds out I’ve been using and taking his stuff. I know his schedule by heart at this point and wait till he leaves to get anything done outside the walls, but ever since talking to you I’ve felt so lonely. I loved talking to you but I know I can’t do that with you all the time so I’m willing to give the Bean a chance.

Do you have any ideas for how I can talk to him?

Thank you for your help and if you do this I won’t even ask for a Christmas present this year!!! Seriously I won’t!!! I would just like a friend.

From the coolest Borrower ever,

-Tommy

P.S. You’re the best.

Wilbur couldn’t believe his eyes.

It- It was a letter to Santa, from Tommy.

His Tommy.

This was it! This was his in, his chance!!!

Wilbur carefully folded the letter back in half and slipped it into his trench coat pocket before hurrying home, formulating a plan of action the whole way. Finally he had a shot to befriend Tommy and there was no way he was going to waste it.

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Waiting.

Waiting..

More waiting…

Great. Just great.

Wilbur couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to the clock on the class room wall. His leg bounced in anticipation as the minutes ticked by to the end of the day. He should really be listening to his lecturer, but it was almost impossible to do so when all the uni student could think of was getting home as quickly as possible.

The only way to catch Tommy would be by surprise, and to do that would be to break his schedule.

Wilbur couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love a well structured schedule. It was the only way he found he really ever got anything done and if sticking to his timed out plan was the way to do that, then so be it. Sometimes that meant postponing other things like hangouts and was a pain, but right now it was his ticket to meeting one Borrower.

His Plan- Get home an hour earlier than normal by skipping study and hope to catch Tommy in the open.

Okay, so yes the whole plan was just one big gamble. It’s not like he got home at exactly the same time every day so he doubted Tommy was going to be out borrowing still even if he was home early, but it’s the best idea he’s got. The letter said Tommy knew his schedule so being early was rarity for him. It’s not going to hurt to give it a try.

He’ll either see Tommy, or he won’t.

Wilbur idly traced the words of Tommy's letter as he sat and waited for his lecturer to signal the end of class. So much energy and bright smiles were hidden beneath the red writing and he wanted to know it all.

After what felt like an eternity, his lecture finally ended and the brunette wasted no time in gathering up his things and racing out the door. He didn’t really need to sprint home, especially given that the roads were still a bit icy, but there was no time to waste.

It only took a matter of minutes for him to reach the end of his street, huffing and panting. He took his time walking down to his house allowing himself to catch his breath and recompose himself for the task at hand.

This was a stealth operation. No loud noises allowed.

Wilbur treaded lightly up to his front door, taking out his keys holding the key chains tight to prevent any jingling sounds before slipping the key in the lock. He turned the key as slowly as he dared, opening the door in a similar manner, before poking his head inside the door frame, eyes immediately looking to spots he thought the small borrower child might be hiding.

No signs of Tommy.

Wilbur crept into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a loud click. “Shoot.” he muttered before slapping a hand over his mouth sharply, before realising his mistake as he cringed at the slight stinging pain now blooming across his jaw.

‘Don’t talk, you idiot!’ Wilbur internally chastised himself.

Ignoring his first blunder, Wilbur quietly shuffled across the carpet to peek into the living room. Nothing appeared out of place, and Tommy’s spot on the book shelf remained as empty as ever.

‘Not here,’ Wilbur thought as he turned and tiptoed across the hallway. ‘Try the kitchen. Just slow and steady, keep quiet, move slow and steady and- ‘CREAKKKKKKK’ An old floorboard groaned loudly as it took the man’s weight.

‘So much for stealth.’

Holding onto a sliver of hope he hadn’t messed up, Wilbur peered into the kitchen. Just like the living room, everything remained untouched and just the same as ever. Wilbur sighed heavily, dropping his bag loudly in defeat. If Tommy had been here, there was no way he hadn’t heard that floorboard move.

Resigning himself to his failed efforts, Wilbur didn’t bother to stay quiet as he trudged into the kitchen defeated. He flung the kitchen cupboard open, grabbing the BBQ crackers from the top shelf cracking the package open. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and his bag from the floor before moving off to his room.

So his one and only plan didn’t work, now what was he going to do? Guess he’d have to try and think of another time to break his schedule that wouldn’t compromise his study life a different way.

The brunette sighed as he grabbed his phone, chucking on one of his favourite playlists and booting up his Bluetooth speaker. Might as well do some study since he skipped his study block back at the campus. It was as he sat down his stomach suddenly grumbled.

Oh, right- the crackers.

Wilbur rose from his chair and moved through the halls before abruptly coming to a stop and hiding behind the kitchen door. There was movement from the BBQ Crackers packet. The man’s breath got stuck in his throat as he watched a tiny blonde boy emerge from the packaging with a cracker looking extremely pleased with themself, as they set it down next to a little blue bag.

Tommy.

Wilbur couldn’t help but stare as he watched the boy work. He should have known that Tommy would come out for food. It never occurred to him that he would try and get the discarded crackers when they were left out on the bench. It was dangerous for the Borrower considering he was home and could be seen, but it was easy access for the boy so of course the risk would be worth it.

With careful precision to avoid the creaky floorboards, Wilbur crept forward. Said blonde had crawled back into the Crackers packet and was distracted. He didn’t want to scare Tommy away, but the boy was far too close to the electrical socket and he’d determined it was a wall entry/exit a while ago. The last thing he wanted was for Tommy to bolt.

It wasn’t till he was about a step or two away that the Borrower popped back out of the bag with another cracker in tow.

It was now or never.

“Ahem,” Wilbur cleared his throat and tried not to feel guilty, as he watched the Borrower on the bench flinch, stumbling back in surprise. “Hi there.”

Wilbur remained completely still as he watched in anticipation for what the blonde would do next. Tommy’s face seemed to morph 100 different ways all at once before stopping at terrified as they processed the situation. The pure terror on the Borrowers face showed he knew there was no escaping this, as their eyes darted around trying to formulate the next best course of action despite their seemingly ‘dire’ situation, but Wilbur continued to remain calm.

He needed Tommy to understand he wasn’t in danger.

The silence stretched on for a few more moments, only broken by the sound of the cracker Tommy had been clutching to his chest, snapping into several pieces. The borrower was so frightened for being caught, he’d subconsciously been clutching the cracker tighter and tighter till it snapped.

“Can I help with that?” Wilbur asked, pointing to the broken cracker in the boy's lap as he stepped closer.

Tommy was fast to react. The blonde sprung to his feet, cracker and equipment forgotten as they bolted for the electrical socket.

“No wait, STOP!” Wilbur cried as lunged forward to stop the boy. Before he even realised what he’d done, he’d swept the Borrower up in his hand, the boy now kicking and screaming in his grasp.

“LET ME GO!!!” he shrieked as they dug and scratched their nails into Wilbur's skin.

Tommy felt the way the hand flexed as he did so, but his attempts weren’t enough to get the man to budge. This was only the second time he’d ever been picked up by a human, and it was nothing like the way Santa had treated him. It felt far too tight and confining and Tommy wanted nothing more than to be free of it. Tommy always knew that Human Beans could be fast, but he never realised just how fast they actually might be.

His futile attempt to make it back to the walls had been wishful thinking at best. Now the very real threat of his head being popped off for being caught stealing the Bean's food had his heart hammering out of his chest. He was going to continue his plans of bloody murder, but as his stomach lurched and he was lifted up and away from the counter, all attempts died off as he was brought closer to his impending doom's face. He couldn’t suppress the small whimper that slipped as his body shook as the Bean seemingly studied every inch of him, before their eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, hey it’s alright.” Wilbur reassured. “I’m not going to hurt you Tommy.”

Tommy’s blood ran cold.

How did he know his name?

No, no he couldn’t have. He’d been careful. Never seen, not once. There was no way Wilbur could have known he was here let alone his name right? Right???

“How the heck do you know my name?” he spat.

Did this mean they knew he was here? Had the Bean been trying to lure him out this entire time just so they could trap him and punish him for taking their stuff?

“Ahhh so about that..” Wilbur began before quickly adjusting his grip and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, thin piece of paper with red scribbled all over it. “I got your letter. It didn’t quite make it to the North Pole I’m afraid.”

Tommy couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was his letter to Santa.

All his worst fears were confirmed in the Beans grasp. If Wilbur had his letter then that meant he DEFINITELY had read it and would know everything!! As if magic wind was a real thing! Prime, why did he think writing to Santa when it was no longer Christmas would be a good idea?

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you Tommy, I just want to talk honestly.” Wilbur tried to reassure as he placed the letter down. The boy only shook his head in response, trembling as they squeezed their eyes shut expecting the worst.

“Okay, I know you’re scared Tommy, but I’ve read your letter, and I just want to help you. You can trust me I-”

“WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?!” The boy shrieked. “YOU SNATCHED ME OFF THE TABLE AND ARE HOLDING ME AGAINST MY WILL!”

“Well yes I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you, I just didn’t want you to run away!”

“If you’re really sorry then you’ll let me go!” Tommy pleaded, tears starting to well up in his eyes. “Please just let me go.”

Wilbur sighed, realising his terrific plan to speak to Tommy wouldn’t get very far with their current circumstances. If the roles were reversed, he’d be rightly terrified out of his mind too. You’d think after all his research on Borrowers, this is something he’d be aware of. Looking around the kitchen, he knew he couldn’t just put them down on the bench and risk the boy making another run for it, and instead turned and headed for the dining room table, despite the boy's sniffling cries.

“Tommy, I’m going to put you down now.” Wilbur explained, trying to be gentle as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs. “I promise I won’t hurt you and you can leave straight after, I just want to talk.”

The boy didn’t speak as he brought his hands down to the wooden surface and slowly released his grip. The blonde immediately wriggled out from his fingers and dropped to the table with a slight thud, but was just as quickly scooting away from his hands now he was free. Wilbur brought his hands away and slipped them under the table into his lap to be less intimidating, but could see Tommy was still highly on edge as they tried to gain distance. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixated on him with a terrified expression, seemingly knowing that he had no hope of getting away in the Beans presence.

He felt bad for putting them in such a vulnerable position, but if he wanted any hope to get him home, then they needed to talk properly- face to face.

“There,” Wilbur said, retracting his hands placatingly. “See, you’re fine.”

Tommy didn’t look particularly convinced, his eyes red from crying and snot running down his nose. Like seriously, who did this guy think he was? After the way he just behaved, why should he trust him?

“Define fine.” The boy snapped hugging himself as he turned away so he didn’t have to face the brunette's constant staring.

Wilbur sighed. Why did he have to be so stubborn? He’s the one that wanted to make friends in the first place.

Wilbur glanced at the letter he’d placed on the edge of the table. Tommy was the one that wanted to talk to him but was just unsure of how to approach him. But instead here he’d come waltzing in and frantically grabbed him without any consideration for how this would make him look. The boy believed Santa when he told him he was a good guy, but any truth in that was gone and rightfully so. In Tommy’s eyes, Wilbur didn’t deserve to be trusted.

How could you trust someone that held your life in their hands?

Wilbur sighed as he knew how to fix this, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, but if he wanted Tommy to trust him then his actions had to match his words.

“Okay so I know I didn’t make the best first impression so how about we start over?” Wilbur tried even slinking down to be a bit lower so he wasn’t looming over him so much. “My names Wilbur and if you need anything you can just ask okay?”

Tommy didn’t reply, even going as far to give him the finger which had the man having to suppress a laugh despite it being fair. He waited for the blonde to speak up a little longer but it didn’t seem the Borrower would be talking any time soon.

Sighing realising this wasn’t going to work, Wilbur stood from the table and walked back to the kitchen. Tommy remained still only glancing a little bit to the side when he heard crackling of plastic, before the heavy foot falls of Wilbur's return signaled he was back before something was put down behind him, and a chair was dragged out and around from the table facing backwards.

“So I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I should have realised how my actions would have affected you so I won’t keep you any longer.” Wilbur stepped back from the table and around to the other side where Tommy could see him and towards the hallway back to his room.

“I’ve uh- left the chair next to the table so you can get down with your hook and things, and I promise I won’t go looking for you, but if you ever need anything- please don’t hesitate to ask.” Wilbur took a deep breath and exhaled as he rubbed the back of his head. “I hope in time, maybe we could be friends.”

After waiting for a reply and receiving none, Wilbur turned and walked into his room, closing the door with a soft click before walking over and flopping onto his bed. He couldn’t force Tommy to trust him. He just had to hope giving them space might change the kids' mind.

The second the Bean was gone, Tommy didn’t hesitate to grab his things and descend down the chair with his hook. He then booked it for the nearest wall entrance he could find and didn’t stop running until he was back in his little room in the walls.

His heart pounded realising how close that had all been and now there was no time to waste.

Hastily he began to load his clothes into his bag and supplies for the journey he had ahead. He couldn’t stay now Wilbur actively knew of his existence. He’d been at the complete mercy of the Bean and that was never going to happen ever again. He kept doing this until he had completely stuffed his pack. As he prepared to leave he made his way to the door and had one final look around at his home for anything he missed.

He couldn't pick up on anything specific, not until his eyes landed on the card from Santa. All those happy days he had gotten from just waking up to a pretty card. His encounter with Santa the best day of his life and the reason he was so comfortable here now at all. The memory felt bitter sweet now though, as he trudged over to the card, picking it up harshly flipping it over for one last read.

Dear Tommy,

It was lovely meeting you and getting

to know your story. I figured you might

like some extra gifts as well to help you

be more comfortable in Wilbur’s walls.

I think you should try talking to him.

You might be surprised.

Sincerely,

Santa Claus

P.S- He’s not as scary as you think.

“Not as scary as you think my ass.” Tommy spat bitterly as he set it back in place.

So what if he’d apologised a bunch of times? That didn’t change the fact he almost hadn’t been freed at all. Sure he’d escaped now, but Wilbur might have just made it look like he was free to go as an act to trick him into feeling guilty enough to stay to catch him later.

But then again, he did apologise a lot and gave him a quick way back down the table. If he really thought about it, he hadn’t looked like he was going to hurt him or anything, just guilty he’d grabbed him in the first place. In fact he hadn’t really done anything besides scare the living daylights out of him by snatching him up.

It was perfectly logical for him to be scared of being grabbed, but apart from that, had the Bean actually done anything wrong? He was just reacting to the situation, and if he had read his letter, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

But no that can’t be right? He can’t seriously be considering Wilbur not a threat after all that?

“Ughhhh my head hurts!” He groaned frustratedly before dropping his pack to the floor and flopping head first into his bed. Why do Human Beans never make sense? Tommy curled himself into the fabric squeezing the sock blanket tightly in his grasp. This was all far too much for him to think about right now.

The events of the day finally seemed to catch up to him as he laid there, adrenaline wearing off, replaced with a heavy fatigue. Perhaps sleeping would be better than trying to leave right this second? Who knew when he’d have another chance once he started the move.

Rather than fight it, Tommy soon fell asleep, snuggled in his bed, his thoughts dreaming of what ifs and Wilbur.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ ₊˚ ｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ ⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The next day, Tommy had yet to leave.

He’d spent most of the morning mulling over his options and what the best course of action was and was having a hard time making up his mind.

On the one hand, leaving meant he was 100% safe from Wilbur and whatever his plans might be, whether they be good intentions or not. But on the other hand, that meant giving up the space he’d spent so long getting right and traversing the winter terrain without a guarantee of finding a place that was safe to stay in. While the Bean knew of his presence, at least he had a warm bed and didn’t have to worry about frostbite. But of course that still left one problem:

Wilbur.

The more he replayed yesterday's events over in his mind the more he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe Wilbur was one of the good Beans. It’s not like he’d ever met or interacted with one before he came here. Everything he knew of them came from stories and warnings from his parents about Borrowers getting trapped in Jars and what not, but there was always some truth in stories one way or another.

Still though, he had one thing going for him that no other Bean did. Santa trusted him. And while Tommy may not trust him, (not completely anyways) perhaps there was a way he could test them.

Tommy had his borrowing bag strapped to his back and his hook and rope at his side as he sat perched atop the bookshelf in the living room, watching and waiting for Wilbur to enter. He’d test the Bean. See if he stayed true to his word and be in plain sight of the man and see if he was worthy of his presence. If he tried to catch him or hurt him in any way, all he had to do was get back through the crack in the wall and grab the rest of his things and book it out of there.

The blonde's knee bounced in anticipation. It was one thing trying not to be seen by a being 100x your size, but another to willingly just be waiting in the open for your maybe/maybe not demise to show up. Strange how the last time he stood out here, he did so waiting for Santa happily, but now it felt like he half wanted to throw up as he waited for the brunette to show.

His thoughts must have summoned him, because entered an exhausted Wilbur with a cup of coffee in hand before they plonked themself down on the couch. He took a long sip and sighed before putting the cup down and threw their head back against the couch.

He looked sad. Big dark bags under his eyes and he was frowning as he stared up at the ceiling. Tommy couldn’t help but think that was probably his fault. Seems yesterday's events had affected Wilbur just as much as it had him and he did feel a bit guilty for that. Did he really care that much he’d lose sleep over him?

Only one way to find out.

“Ahem.” Tommy cleared his throat and the Bean jolted up almost immediately, head looking around wildly for the source.

“Hey, up here big man.” The boy called with a wave to down below and clenched his hook tightly with the other hand as the brunette's sweeping gaze snapped up onto him. “Sorry if I- uh startled you.”

“No, no it’s fine, I just- I thought you left.” Wilbur said as he turned himself to be better facing the Borrower without leaving the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Tommy asked even though he knew the answer.

“Well, I don’t know I just thought- I’d scared you away.” Wilbur looked away, staring at his coffee as if it was far more interesting than the boy on his shelf. “I figured you’d have left because of how I- how I um..”

“Grabbed me?” Tommy asked, raising a brow as he did so.

“Yeah… I truly am sorry about that. I never should have reacted like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise I never planned to do anything to you when I did, I just- my hand moved without thinking and yeah. I’m sorry Tommy.”

“It wasn’t particularly nice of you.” Tommy tried to ignore the tingly sensation of phantom hands wrapping around him as he stood up. “I just felt so helpless when you did.”

Wilbur nodded sadly in agreement. “Yeah I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you. Based on what I read in your letter, it must be really hard living at your size when everything is so big.”

“Well I was born this way. I learned to live cautiously to protect myself. You Beans are just too busy thinking of yourselves than about who else might be living out of sight.” Tommy glanced down to Wilbur and noticed how the Bean twiddled their thumbs in their lap, gaze now resting on the table and a familiar piece of paper. His Letter.

“Hey I’ve got to ask,” Tommy started as Wilbur brought his head back up to the shelf. “How did you get your hands on my letter? Last I saw it, it was flying out in the wind randomly to who knows where.”

Wilbur chuckled as he leaned over and picked up the letter carefully to admire the craftsmanship of it once more. “Well, I was walking home from grocery shopping the other day and it kind of just flew into my face. It was by chance that I decided to open it and read it that I noticed the paper was one of my discarded music sheets I use for scrap paper. Kind of connected the dots from there since it was my work and here we are.”

Tommy nodded as he listened. He supposed that made more sense than magic wind, even if the chances of it flying into Wilbur's face were bizarrely low.

“Still a shame it didn’t make it to Santa. I wanted to thank him properly for what he did for me.”

“You could always write him another letter if you want.” Wilbur suggested. “I don’t mind helping you if you like.”

Tommy nodded considering the idea before speaking up. “I think you might have to write to Santa for yourself though. You’ll probably be on his naughty list for a while when I tell him about everything that’s happened.”

Wilbur smiled as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah I deserve that. I’ll have to really work hard to get back on the nice list then won’t I?”

“You sure will. Gonna take a lot to get back in his good books though.”

Wilbur smiled as he set the letter back down and leaned back into the couch. “Do you have any ideas on how I could do that?”

Tommy scratched his head for a moment in thought.

“Well for starters you’d have to be extra nice and always use proper manners like asking before you do something.”

Wilbur nodded as the boy continued. “And you’d have to always announce your presence coming in and out of rooms cause if you don’t that’s just rude.”

Wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle as Tommy kept listing nice specific things off. “Anything else?”

“Annnnd always leave extra food out on the counters- specifically the BBQ crackers and chocolate because that’s how you show you're being extra nice.”

“Right, well it sounds like I’ve got my work cut out for me then.” Wilbur replied as he looked back up to where Tommy stood upon the shelf. The boy seemed rather pleased with himself before he realised he was in sight and timidly stepped back from view.

“I’ve got to ask though, why are you still here? I assumed the last place you’d want to be is anywhere near me and well, yeah.” It was a question that was starting to eat at him as why the Borrower would go against the code and all the other things he had read about not making sense.

“Well initially, I was going to leave straight away, yes. But with all the snow on the ground and not knowing the area, it made the decision of leaving more complicated so I’m giving talking one last shot and then deciding.”

Wilbur smiled as he felt warm that the blonde was at least giving him a chance, even if they had their hesitations. He didn’t blame Tommy for being wary after everything that had transpired but maybe there was still hope to salvage things.

“Hey Tommy, do you think maybe we could start over?” the brunette asked. “I think we got off on the wrong foot and I’d really like to show I mean you know harm.”

Tommy stood back from the shelf edge where he couldn’t see the Bean. This was exactly what he wanted. A chance for the Bean to prove himself and he hadn’t even had to ask.

Wilbur watched the bookshelf nervously waiting for a response. What if he’d over stepped? He didn’t have to wait long for an answer as the blonde came back into view with his arms behind his back, before breaking into a smile.

“Yeah, that would be nice. But don’t even think about putting me in a jar cause I know Santa and Santa will absolutely beat your ass if you do.”

“And why would he do that?” Wilbur smirked teasingly.

“Because,” Tommy stated. “I’m his favourite.”

Wilbur’s heart melted as the boy blew a raspberry at him before pulling a bunch of different faces. In a way, he guessed it was true.

Tommy was his favourite.

And he wasn’t going to mess this opportunity up a second time.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ ₊˚ ｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ ⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

In the days to come, Wilbur and Tommy began to slowly get to know each other.

Albeit at a distance with Tommy still hiding on shelves and behind items that he was sort of a discombobulated voice, but it was a start and made the Borrower feel safer.

Wilbur didn’t mind in the slightest as they were actually talking and making progress! If Wilbur thought Tommy had talked a lot on their Santa encounter, well the kid had certainly been holding back as they chatted away about anything and everything they could speak on.

In fact, soon the two were bantering back and forth like they’d been life long friends and it didn’t take long for Tommy to start showing himself on the shelves.

Wilbur was always super cautious around the boy and made sure to give him space, and even gave him extra warning about what he was doing to ease the boy more around his presence. While Tommy initially had his reservations, he was quickly beginning to see what Santa had meant in his card.

Wilbur truly was doing everything he possibly could to show he wanted to help him and be friends and that gave Tommy the confidence to take the next step and actually be in close proximity with the man rather than the safety of shelves.

Eventually, Tommy would tell Wilbur of how he came to be in his apartment and Wilbur would offer to take Tommy back to his home. It didn’t take long for the boy to realise how close he’d actually grown to the Bean and when the time came to actually go, the Borrower would decide that maybe the Forest wasn’t necessarily his home any more.

From there, the two continued to grow closer and eventually table talks turned to movie nights on the couch, to hand cuddles on chilly days. And whenever things got too much, Wilbur gave Tommy the space he needed and one day Tommy realised that Santa was right.

Wilbur wasn’t as scary as he once believed.

In fact, he finally had a friend he could depend on.

Just like he had always wanted.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ ₊˚ ｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ ⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Epilogue

Annnnnnnnnnnnd that's a wrap!!!

Thank you so much if you read the whole thing through. It was a lot of fun to write as it's not the kind of topic I see written about very often and especially not in a gt sense so I loved exploring what Santa is to a Borrower that lived outside most of their life never knowing about these things.

HUGE Thank you to @quotemenevervore for beta reading and helping me get unstuck to write the ending!!! Always very thankful for your input and so glad I got this done before Christmas like I planned <3

Thanks again to everyone who's stuck around and continues to enjoy my writing despite all the circumstances of previous creators constantly changing. As times gone on, while I still really enjoy writing these characters, new ideas to use them in the future have certainly been becoming less, so I still fully intend to finish JORNOS but after that's done, I have one more chapter fic I want to post and then I think I might explore some new characters. Dunno yet tbh. Work is being a pain and will probably continue to delay new stuff, but I'm certainly not done yet :3

Anyways that's my last fic for this year so Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and I'll see you all on the next fic <3

tag list: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @box-beanz @gracideaviolet @a-xyz-s

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piss-pumpkin · 1 year ago

Text

🎃The Summerween special🩸

Douce amere chapter 12, Older!dipper pines x reader, ~3.8k words Prev Masterlist

The upstairs bathroom of the mystery shack had never looked so good. Clean, which was relatively unusual, and even more so, decorated with candles and flashlights. Almost midnight.

Dipper lit the last of the candles, a small tea light, and placed it on the counter. “Alright, I think that’s all of them.”

The counter was covered and lit, despite the overhead lights still being on. Mabel shined a flashlight under her chin, and waved her fingers in the air. “Looks perfect!” she exclaimed, nearly bouncing off the little stool she sat on. “If what I read online is true, she might grant us wishes!”

You looked up at her from where you sat on the floor, legs crossed. “What exactly did you read online?” you prodded. “Like where did you get the instructions for this?”

She puckered and popped her lips, “you know, a few places… and it’s not like Dip or Ford knew anything,” she shrugged, smile creeping onto her lips. “So if you think about, I’m the most knowledgeable person here on the subject.”

”That does not answer my question,” you said, folding your arms.

Dipper leaned against the counter, “Yeah, I’m with Y/n on this one, I really think that if she’s real, not all the shitposts are accurate.”

”Hey, hey, my sources are trusted,” she claimed, shaking her head at his dismissal. “And if you don’t believe in the wishes, why are we even doing this?”

Dipper paused for a moment, as if unsure she was even serious. “Dude, to find out what happens,” he said, as if it were obvious.

You smiled cheekily, “Yeah, plus, it’s Halloween, we need a little spooky time.” You looked around the brightly lit room, wincing a little bit, “or at least it will be when we start.”

”Summerween,” Dipper corrected absently. “Not Halloween.” As you rolled your eyes, Dipper squinted, and started to flip through his journal. “Speaking of, Summerween has literally no spiritual or historical significance, if this works it’s because Gravity Falls is crazy, not because of the day.”

Mabel’s face contorted, “then why are we doing it today?”

You threw your hand out to hit her on the leg, “If you’re gonna get murdered by Bloody Mary, wouldn’t you rather do it on a night of horror and whimsey, and not just like, some random Tuesday?”

Mabel nodded along, “yeah, I guess.”

”What?” Dipper asked. He looked up from his journal with his brow furrowed, “None of us are gonna die.” He was still idly reading his journal, and tapped and prodded at the counter behind him looking for his pen. When he found it, he started to chew the back end in between jotting down notes.

You shook your head with a smile, “well, yeah, duh, but if it comes down to it,” you trailed off, waving your hand in the air. You looked up at him. He looked down at you. You smiled, and his faux annoyance faded.

“Well I guess if I had to get murdered by Bloody Mary,” he sighed, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Mabel kicked him as she pumped her fist and legs in the air, “That’s the spirit, Bro!”

His annoyance came back as he recoiled his shin away from her feet, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, glancing at the clock. “It’s almost midnight, we should turn off the lights.”

You stood, and started toward the switch. “What in the rules says it has to be midnight?” You asked, flicking it down. The room darkened everywhere but the mirror area, which stayed lit with burning the candles.

The twins looked at you, then each other. When neither of them spoke, Dipper sighed. “Mabel, you looked up the ritual, why did we wait until midnight?” he sighed, head in his hand.

She flipped her flashlight at him, and shrugged with pursed lips.

“Turn that thing off,” you said, tapping her flashlight with your foot, “Only candle light, it’s spookier that way,” you said, wiggling your fingers.

Dipper scribbled something down in his journal, then set it and his pen down. He took one glance at his phone before shutting it off and pocketing it. “Okay, let’s start, we’ve got like a minute.”

You and Mabel gave a thumbs up, standing off to the side while he looked into the mirror with skeptical eyes. “You guys are standing way over there, huh,” he deadpanned, raising his brow at you and Mabel.

You waved your hand in dismissal, “Dippy, don’t be scared,” you chided. You blew a kiss at him with a smile, “if she tries to get you, we’ll beat her off.”

Mabel snickered, “I mean, I’ll leave you two to that,” she said, earning a punch from you straight to the arm.

Dipper waved his hands, “Okay, everyone shut up, it’s midnight, we’re doing the thing.” He sighed, looking at his reflection in the mirror, and started to speak. “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,” he said, in a rather subdued voice.

The room was silent. You waited a beat, then two. Then the light from Mabel’s phone drew your eye. She had open a Wikihow article. Great.

She frantically whisper yelled at Dipper, “now you have to spin three times!”

He sighed, quietly shouting right back, “that’s stupid,” before complying with her order, and spinning in a circle where he stood.

Mabel cheekily scrolled through the wikihow article as the three of you waited for something to happen. Dipper pursed his lips, turning to you and Mabel, “I blame Ma-“

He stopped, and side eyed the mirror with puckered lips. Slowly, he opened his mouth again as he raised his hand to point at it. “Hey, wait a second,” he said curiously. Then all of a sudden he was leaning closer to the mirror, and squinting harder.

You tapped your foot on the ground impatiently, crossing your arms. “Dip, Buddy,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What’cha got there?” You could vaguely remember playing this exact prank on some friends as a kid, and Dipper was a worse actor.

He turned toward you, and your eyes widened as you saw his wide smile. He pointed a finger gun at the mirror with one hand, and steadied himself on the counter with the other. He nearly laughed, “Guys, are you seeing this shi-“

Before he could finished, you and Mabel gasped, her hands flying up to point at her brother. Worse, before either of you could say anything, it was too late for a warning. In blink, something launched out of the mirror, and in a blur of black motion, even more obscured by the darkness in the room, attacked Dipper.

It stuck to his head like a face-hugger, but with arms. Arms with hands that held tightly. Dipper struggled and moved and writhed, and tried to pull it off, groans and screams muffled. The dim light of the candles started to fade as he put them out with his flailing.

Well shit. Suddenly you could think enough to tear your eyes away. Lights would be good. As Mabel screamed and pointed, you raced over to the switch, and illuminated the scene.

Mabel was swatting away the creature, which looked a lot more like a person in the light. Its arms were still wrapped around Dippers head, and its legs pressed against his chest. A long mess of wet and dripping black hair obscured any face of hers.

The more you looked, the worse it got. Your eyes skimmed over her sickly white skeleton thin limbs on your first look in the dark. And on that skeletal frame, a small white dress with… red stains. And dripping the same. Well fuck, that’s probably bad.

In an instant Mabel punched it, coming at a side angle to avoid hurting Dipper. Maybe she’s learning. I should help, you thought, still staring. Yeah. Let’s do that.

Without any semblance of a thought, much less a battle plan, you dove in. With quick step you lunged, grabbing for the creature. Or… the girl. Blindly, you wrapped your arms around her chilled torso, and pulled with all your momentum.

Suddenly Dipper’s voice returned with a desperate gasp for breath, and then a stifled groan as Mabel punched him.

You, on the other hand, were tumbling down to the floor at rapid speeds. The sounds of Mabel and Dipper faded away as you screamed, both at the terror in your arms, and your impending impact. At least the hair was covering her face. Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the fall.

And all of a sudden the wind was knocked out of you, the creature folding under your chest. “Ugh,” you groaned. You pushed with shaky arms off the ground, opening your eyes reluctantly.

As you did, you locked gaze with red eyes above you. Shit. Sunken in and white cheeks contorted as it opened an unhinged jaw to hiss and shriek. Piercing. Your hands quickly released her to fly to your ears as you winced, kicking her off of her. The wood floor hit your back hard as you rolled away. In a ditch effort to do some damage, you threw your leg out to get another kick in as you rolled and she screamed.

Your foot never landed though. Just as you tried, something was grabbing you by the arms. You jolted away, and whipped you head around with bated breath.

Dipper. He was trying to pull you up. You looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before he tried again to get you on your feet. “Come on, you’ve gotta get up,” he said, shifting his arms under yours to pull you.

Legs shaking, you managed. And looked up to see Mabel doing your job for you. With a jump and a battle cry, she soccer kicked bloody Mary’s face in.

Dipper didn’t let go of you, and you were more than glad. His arms around your shoulder was so warm compared to the chill that came over the room when the creature let out her final shrill cry. She went limp on the ground, and your mouth fell open in small shock.

You looked behind you at Dipper, who wore a very similar expression.

Mabel turned around to you both with a wide smile, and a thumbs up. “How crazy was that?!” She said, beaming ear to ear. Her socks were specked with red from the creatures… mouth, eyes, nose… something.

You pointed at her, eyes darting between Mabel and bloody Mary. “Dude, Mabes,” you started, brow furrowed. “D-did you fucking kill her?”

Mabel looked at the limp skeletal body on the ground near her feet. Then back at you. Then back at the body. She shrugged silently, lips in a blank smile.

Dipper stepped forward from behind you, and caught you eye with his worried expression. He pointed hesitantly to a detail you seemed to miss on first glance. “Uh, Mabel,” he spoke, voice level and controlled. “What’s happening there?”

You followed his finger to her socks, and the red splatters adorning them. They were starting to move. They weren’t the only one. The body started to convulse. With jolting and jittery movement, she extended an arm, you heard a bone crack, and curled into a ball, hiding her bloody face. A small red pool was forming where her shaking body laid. And it was inching its way, almost deliberately toward Mabel.

“Oh my god, Mabel, start moving,” you stated, not really an ask, waving arms at her, still just standing there.

She looked down, and face contorted. “Augh,” she exclaimed, jumping away from the blood. She slid her socks off with her feet, kicking them across the room as the blood overtook and enveloped them. She pointed at them very aggressively, “What the fuck is that?!”

Dipper grimaced, pursing his lips as he crossed his arms. “Yeah, you tell me, you were supposed to look up the ritual.”

”Shut up,” she said simply. She narrowed her eyes at him, “I prefer fucking around and finding out,” she snickered.

You stared with raised brow and dumbfounded expression, seemingly the only one who noticed that her now bare foot was… bloody. Mary’s body was shrivelling as the shaking started to slow, and the blood was still creeping over. And a few drops of blood must have seeped through the socks before she threw them. “Fuck around and find out, huh?” You asked. Rhetorical question. Because the answer was yes.

The few drops started to grow. And started to seep in. Her skin started to red below the ankle, and it spread like mold in spots and streaks.

Mabel looked down, “Oh shit.”

Dippers eyes widened, “ugh, gimme your phone,” he demanded, making his way toward his sister. “I need to see the instructions on the ritual you gave us,” he sighed, hand outstretched.

Mabel’s eyes were wide and a shaky smile crossed her pale lips. Pale? That’s not good. Her face was losing colour as fast as her feet and hands were gaining it. Dippers face was cool and calm, but his eyes started trained on his palm rather than her. Easier that way. she gingerly handed him the phone, letting out an awkward laugh as she did. “The password is 80085,” she winced.

Dipper sighed, rolling his eyes as he typed it in. He sucked a breath in through closed teeth, “Mabel, fucking wikihow?” He breathed with barred teeth. He waved his hand in the air, gesturing at the phone, “wikihow.”

She shook her head, “what did you want me to do?” What’s wrong with wikihow?” She asked, pointing at him accusingly.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Well it’s not very good, for one,” you said. “Secondly, this is not a productive use our of time right now,” you pointed at… Mabel, her whole condition. She was a rich blood red from the knees and the forearms to the tips of her fingers and toes, and ghostly white on her face and chest. “Mabel, you’re getting worse.”

You turned to the limp creature on the ground, who seemed smaller than before as she huddled into herself. Dipper seemed to have similar ideas, carefully sidestepping the blood pool creeping toward his sister as he went to investigate. He knelt before the body, and looked back to you before touching it.

You did you best to nod reassuringly, and shot him a thumbs up. He pursed his lips, smiling just slightly.

Dipper poked the body, gently on head, on the wet and plastered hair. Nothing happened. You heard a faint grumble come from him as he wiped the finger on his pants.

You scooted over to Mabel, who was emitting cold like an ajar freezer. Side eyeing her, you could see her breath escape her lips. The closer you stood to her the more goosebumps seemed to crawl their way up your arms. You did it anyway, nearly shoulder to shoulder with her as you both watched Dippers observations. If he wants to touch it, all him.

Dipper moved to the shoulder, brushing away the blood wet hair with a grimace on his face.

Ugh. You sighed, crossing your arms as you stepped away from Mabel. You knelt beside Dipper, nearly falling over as you refused to uncross your arms while you sat on your heels and balanced on the balls of your feet.

He glanced over at you, “Are you gonna touch it?” he asked, brow raised and deadpan.

You shots him a crooked smile and Mabel came and knelt beside you. “Mayhaps?” you offered with a shrug. Mabel nodded along, giving an encouraging thumbs up to her brother with blood red hands.

Dipper stopped just short of touching the body, eyes locked on his sister. His brow furrowed and mouth hung ajar. “Mabel…” he started, squinting at her. “Mabel you should go see Ford, he might know what’s going on with you.”

”Uh, okay,” she said. Her voice was practically a whisper, almost echoing. But the bathroom wasn’t spacious enough for that. “Yeah, I’m looking kinda off,” she winced, staring at her pale ghostly face in the mirror. She was silent as she stood. Oddly so. The moving of her bones, skin or clothes made no sound, and you had to check to see if she was still beside you.

And as she snuck off, with a stealth a predator would envy, the room felt a little warmer. You eyed the door she closed behind her. “I think you should text Ford to want him,” you said.

Dipper sighed, nodding as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Yep,” he affirmed, starting to type.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the body at your feet. It was… gross. Her white silk dress was stained red all over. Definitely a good thing you couldn’t see her face. You looked at the body, stared and bit the inside of your cheek. “We should probably go see Mabel.”

…

Mabel was screaming. The moment you stepped out of the elevator you blocked your ears to defend from her shrill cry. Tired down to a chair, thrashing with her blood red hands, and staring you and Dipper down with her now blood red eyes. Fords basement study was askew, with books knocked off of his desk, and a few pieces of shattered glass pushed to the corner of the room.

Ford looked at the two of you with wide eyes and furrowed brow. He pointed aggressively at Mabel, not nothing trying to speak over the haunted telling and thrashing, silently asking what the fuck happened?

You grimaced and looked at Dipper, whose eyes were wide as he stared at his sister. You waited a moment for him to speak, but he doesn’t. You sucked a breath in through your teeth and shouted, “Bloody Mary,” with hands cupped around your lips.

Mabel started to squirm harder, fists balled as she tired to break free of her restraints. A closer examination enlightened you to the blood dripping from the corners of her mouth, dripping on bloodied clothes from blood red lips. You recoiled slightly, lightly grabbing the sleeve of Dippers sweater. Lucky you, he didn’t seem to notice.

Ford was livid. He put his hands to his forehead and tiredly pushed back his hair. He gestured wildly at the two of you, and then to Mabel, and then back towards you. He shook his head. “Well, now we have to do an exorcism,” he said angrily.

You raised your brow and yelled across the room, “Those are real? Like they work?”

Ford nodded gravely. Or maybe it was tiredly. “Yes, they work,” he sighed, gesturing for you to come closer and see his notes.

You start to step, but there’s a pause. Not in the background noise, Mabel is still going strong, but in the conversation. Usually he’d have something to say by now. You glanced at Dipper beside you, whose eyes are fixed on his sister. It wasn’t hard to notice the way his lips were twitching, and tugged down in the corners. Other than that, completely stoic. And you knew him well enough to know that wasn’t right. Carefully, you tugged his sleeve.

In a swift motion his head jerked to face you, mouth hung slightly open, and eyes widened as he saw you. “What?” He asked, seeming startled. You still cling to his sleeve, twiddling the fabric between your fingers.

Your voice soft, you nearly mumble, “exorcism.” You hoped he could read your lips through the noise.

Despite he banging and assortment of odd sounds coming from Mabel, he seemed to have understood you, because he nodded, and finally saw Ford.

The old man’s face was troubled. You probably weren’t looking amazing yourself, trying to avoid staring down Dipper to gauge his reactions. He came closer to the both of you for better speaking, and carefully explained what they had to.

And the whole time it was done, your eyes kept wandering to Dipper, praying the clouded and distant look didn’t come back to him. But it always did. Subtle, soft, but so noticeable to you, and probably Ford. The way he twitched, on occasion, when Mabel resisted with a voice not her own. The shakiness of his hands when she thrashed. His furrowed brow and distressed eyes, even when it was done, and she was back and laughing about it. It all seemed to follow him, even as you went back upstairs, completely safe.

Mabel joked with him, picking up on his manner. And it worked, for a time. He smiled, and you watched, perplexed. And then, her body’s energy, completely wasted by the angry spirit, she slept like a rock.

And once again, in front of the lull of the TV, you watched it take hold of him. You were close together on the small couch. The hour was late, and despite everything, neither of you were sleep tired. More like bone tired, if anything. He was, at least. “So, are you alright?” You asked, finally.

Dippers head turned, tipped, and toiled as his lips pursed. “I don’t like possession,” he managed, fingers running up and down the sleeve of his sweater.

Your fingers seemed to scratch at your knuckles with a mind of their own. Ah. You glanced at him, the silhouette of his side profile. The TV running was suddenly in the background, whatever shitty reality show you were making fun of faded out. Like you couldn’t even hear it. You nodded, lacking any worth while words.

He let out a little nose laugh. “Yeah,” he snickered, shaking his head, “I know.”

You sighed, shaking your arm behind him and wrapping it around his waist, your hand gently crawling up his side. “Sucks,” you agree, pulling yourself closer to him and resting your head on his chest. You glanced up at him, seeing his soft smile. “But it’s over, at least.”

He carefully took your free hand in his, and kissed the top of your head as he spoke nearly into your hair. “It is. I’m glad Ford got it done with quickly.”

“Yeah, this didn’t really go according to plan,” you said, thumbing over his knuckles.

He laughed softly, and you felt the air from his nose on your head. “Was there even a plan?” He asked, leaning into you. “I thought we were just fucking around to find out.”

You smiled, “well, yeah, but-“ you paused, thinking for a moment. “You know, I don’t think we planned for Mabel to…” you trailed off, shaking your head against his shirt as you chuckled.

“She knows how to party,” he laughed. His grip on your hand tightened, and you looked up. Tired eyes. A little sad looking. His brow was furrowed as he looked aimlessly down at you. Past you. Through you?

You huddled impossibly closer. “Over now. No more possession,” you said, throwing your legs across him like a seatbelt. Completely safe.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He laughed silently through his nose, small smile returning to his lips. “Yeah.”

Fun fact: I started writing this a little before Halloween and ended up finishing it in December. My procrastination is a menace. I’m doing it right now. I have math homework and a philosophy paper due tomorrow and I haven’t started either. Doing great btw (lie)

Another fun fact: me and some friends are gonna go into the woods and look for skinwalker a this weekend to prove to some friends that they aren’t real (real paranormal investigators?? Woah??) so if I stop uploading it’s cuz I’m dead

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque

#x reader #my writing #dipper pines x reader #douce amere #gravity falls x reader #dipper pines #dipper x reader #gravity falls

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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 1 month ago

Text

I See It, I Like It, I Want It

*Garvez *The conclusion to 'This Time was Different' (A dream kicks off discussions of Luke's feelings for her and them as a couple) *6,592 words of smut on AO3

Raising a fist to the door, she jerks to a stop before knocking.

Was this dumb?

This was dumb.

Would he even get it? Would he see the ears and think she was being ridiculous?

For a moment she imagines him, angry and put-off, “Come back when you can take me seriously” spat at her.

She blinks, erasing the phantom.

No.

That wasn’t him. That attitude belonged to someone else, someone long ago, but not him.

He’d never judged her whimsey. Sure, he’d gotten frustrated at her choices, but who hadn’t? Everyone was upset by those choices… even herself. And even still, he stood by her.

No, he wouldn’t be mad about this…It was a good faith thing…and she did look pretty sexy.

Penelope feels up the top of her wide hood checking that the bunny ears which crown her dusty lavender faux fur coat are still situated just so, forward and slightly bent, then smoothes her hand down the front of her belly from waist to hem.

Her fingers curl around the bottom, tips brushing her legs mid thigh as she gives a slight tug down. She closes her eyes thinking of Luke flicking her rain cape uttering the very words that had inspired tonights outfit, of Luke brushing a curled knuckle down her arm, of Luke touching every soft and fuzzy thing she owned like it was his job to inspect the down with which she swathed herself. How sometimes, maybe, she might have worn one or two of them just for him, just so he might, though she wasn’t willing to acknowledge it at the time.

But this had definitely been picked for him. An outfit with a message. An answer in cloth.

She knocks, knuckles firmly rapping out three brief halts, hearing Luke call Roxie to heel, and the slide lock unlatching.

His hand braces the door frame and his body fills the space he allows between the semi-open door.

Upon seeing him, all thoughts of why she’s there are momentarily overtaken, head falling to the side in question,“You don’t check before opening the door? What if I was a killer? Or an umbrella salesmen? Or a killer disguised as an umbrella salesmen!?”

Luke fights back a laugh at the thought of an umbrella wielding murderer dressed in her current outfit. The scene in front of him was something for the movies, but at the same time, something decidedly not out of the realm of Penelope Garcia’s closet. And unfortunately for him she wore it very well. Eared hood, that on any other adult would look absurd, he found adorably charming. The plush coat, ending like all her dresses did, at mid thigh, exposing smooth, shapely legs on tall heels, dragging that charm into a twisted kind of craving.

He knows she’s caught him staring, but he allows himself the indulgence regardless before dragging his eyes back up to her smirking face. She hadn’t been wearing this at work earlier. Or at Lunacorn this morning. And privately, he’s thankful. He doesn’t want Green seeing this. He doesn’t want anyone to have the privilege of seeing the view in front of him right now.

The hand that had been holding the door drops as he pushes it fully open propelling himself aside, allowing her in. Wisps of her sleeve reach out stroking him as she strides past, Luke thinking how every cutting phrase and slip of flirtation had been killing him slowly for years. Death by a thousand cuts. “I’m not sure you aren’t.” he says softly in response, closing the door behind them, locking out all other potential bunny assassins.

“Well?” Inside Penelope turns back to face him, prompting, arms sweeping shallowly out indicating her outfit. Seeing him, watching him take her in so openly, she’s sure it was the right choice, but she needs him to know, understand the intention.

“….well?” Luke echos back, not entirely sure what she wanted, what she might be looking for.

Telling her the coat is cute but he’d rather see it on the floor is out of line right now, possibly out of line all together depending on what decision she’d come to since they last talked. And as far as he can tell there are no major connections between their earlier conversation and her current attire jumping out at him.

Penelope huffs. He could be frustratingly unpredictable at the most inopportune times. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m wearing? Make some joke? Anything?”

“Penelope-“ There are few things her outfit inspires besides the urge to touch her.

“Just do it!”

Luke rolls his eyes, but relents. Grinning he gestures, spouting off the first obvious joke that comes to mind, “Garcia, what are you wearing? Is it April? Where’s your basket of eggs?”

“Good?”

Seemingly satisfied, Penelope gives a curt nod, then slides her hands down the ties of her belt, answering, “I am no average bunny, mon amour, I am wearing…my armor.”

His concentration snags on the unlikely term of endearment, fuzzing all that came after it.

Had she just casually told him she loved him?

But Penelope pushes on, pushing past it.

“You said before that you’d put a chink in it, my fluffy armor.”

“I recall…”

“Then, you understand what this is, for you…to finish the job. Strip me of my armor.”

She can see his brain stuttering to a stop as she says it, Luke staring, eyebrows raising, processing…the memory? her meaning? her phrasing? Then watches as he whirrs back to the moment, blinking and wetting his lips.

“Pen, is this- uhm,”

Was the coat all she was wearing? She couldn’t be, that sort of thing was risky at best, dangerous at worst. That was the sort of thing reserved for porn and 80s movies, not real life.

He was right to rush her in.

The symbolism of her outfit is different though. Her statement hit home. And it was a big gesture if she meant it, but it still didn’t address how they could be together.

Penelope grins. She enjoyed making him flustered, it always eased up some of her own tension, today was no different, the more tongue tied he got, the more at ease she felt.

Clearing his throat, Luke looks down shoving his hands in his front pockets, eyebrows knitting, “Is this your answer? Do you- have you figured it out? Because-“

He scrubs his face as he mutters to himself, “God I cannot believe I’m going to say this- because I can’t… just sleep with you. Ifthat’syouroffering I-”

“-This isn’t that.”

Penelope cuts him off, rushing forward, and grabs him by the arm. The irony of it being their first touch since she’d come in, and also being one of the very few times she’d reached out to him at all not going unnoticed. She feels his muscles flex under her grip, but she doesn’t look down, making sure she has his focus, his attention, before continuing. “And I have thought about it. And I came to the conclusion that- Luke-”

He hears her heels shift on the wood and notes how she frowns before saying whatever it is she’s going to say next, a signal he doesn’t like.

“I can’t be wined and dined. Not by you. Not yet any way,” Her brows furrow as she conceders the long-term validity of her statement “…Or not any more? I’m not sure. I am sure I can’t handle anything formal right now. But. I want us to start right now. And I…want to start together…” Her hand slides up his bicep and over his shoulder to cup his neck, stepping closer, the other hand slides down to lace her fingers with his. “If you do, like, starting at home base, skipping the get-to-know-yous.”

She had thought about it. Taken the entire day, truthfully, to think about it. Time where her whole focus should have been dedicated to much more important tasks… She really needed to knock that off. Build back her compartmentalization-

Rather, learn compartmentalization.

At any rate, the resolution she’d come to, the option she’d come to, was down to one, as the answer she’d come to, time and time again, only allowed for that one.

She wasn’t willing to risk hurting him by letting herself get spooked, she had to lull herself into a sense of safety. Of routine. Act casual until it felt natural.

Trick herself into a relationship.

To her surprise, Luke chuckles, “You don’t know what the bases mean do you?”

“I’m not here to talk sports metaphors, Luke!”

Tucking away the smile, he looks down into her earnest eyes, a move he nearly regrets, and feels himself step closer, walking her back. “It would be just us?” He needs the guarantee. The peace of mind.

“Just you and me.” Her thumb strokes the pulse in his neck, Penelope watching, hoping it’ll be enough.

He stops the shiver that forms from her touch and takes another step, feeling when she meets the wall, “No one else? No other dates-” Parted electric lips divert his attention before his eyes meet hers again. He wants to give in, give to whatever terms she’s set as long as he can have those lips on his.

She hears the hope, the gentle bitterness in his wearing voice fanning over her. It’s a version of fifty different voices- all his- that do something to her. She rests her head on the wall and presses her thighs together satisfying the warm hum between them, eyes fluttering closed, “Just you. I promise.”

It seems to be a pledge he believes, because the moment she says it his hand starts working a coat button.

He watches her throat contract as she swallows then breathes in. Knuckles nudging open the soft fur of her, his hand slowly sliding, parting it as he does, palm coming to rest on something smooth and gripping.

Not skin.

“How long until I’ve earned the right to take this layer off?” He gently tugs at the fabric, but his teasing eyes never leave her face.

“Think of it as a two-for one deal, a gift with purchase-”

His fingertips find the edge, climbing under it, then brush across her waist and slip up, thumbs sweeping below her breasts. He notes the lack of bra, humming, “Lucky me.”

With no where to go, trapped between Luke and the wall, she expects the cold thread of panic to shoot through her, but when it doesn’t come, not even when he drops her hand to thread his fingers up the back her hair and tilt her head up, and his thigh presses deliciously between her legs, she sinks into his hold, body to body, coy smile curling the edges of her mouth.

She’s pressed against his chest, a whole lot of him pressed against her, and though she’s been pressed against him countless times before, those were all flitting, platonic hugs of celebration, this is a different kind of celebration, it’s long, it’s intentional, and it’s a massive turn on. She can’t remember ever really feeling him before. How he felt against her, but oh, how he feels against her now. Thin layers separating them, solid, firm. He’s built with gently giving hard curving ridges, ridges her fingers suddenly ache to trip over. Ridges she wants pressing her harshly into a mattress- or couch, or this wall- she isn’t feeling very choosey.

Suddenly she can’t remember why she’d held off for so long, why she ignored it, denied it, and pushed him away. She certainly doesn’t want him anywhere near away right now, all she wants is to not hold off a minute longer.

Mouth parting, her lips brush his cheek in question, “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

She knows he’s smiling by the way his cheek pushes against hers, but to her displeasure, his answer isn’t in the form of plush lips turning to find hers, instead, instead, it’s to loosen his hold. His hand untangles and slides down her back, A sound of protest nearly slipping off her tongue.

“And deny Roxy first dibs when she’s been such a Good Girl?” The dog’s tail thumps on the wood floor from a distance hearing the melodic upturn in his praise.

Drat.

She couldn’t deny a good girl some love…she was just hoping Luke couldn’t either.

His finger tips brush back down her side and dance with the thin hem of her top, feet spreading in a wider stance as his hips pull back,“So we’re doing this?”

Penelope nods her assent, grinning, “Currently. Right now in fact.”

Luke shakes his head and steps away, his hands finding hers, fingertips hooking with fingertips, “I don’t paw at my girlfriends the second they walk in-”

“-You will when it’s me…“ She gives him a cheeky smile, he only gives her a look.

“I get them a drink, we relax…What do you want?”

Their hands separate as Luke lets go, turning towards his kitchen, leaving Penelope to kneel and scratch the top of Roxy’s head.

She mushes her forehead to Roxy’s furry one, whispering, “Your daddy’s being rather obtuse, think it would help if i told him he knows what I want?.” The dog’s long body sinks into hers and Penelope dips down hugging her long middle. “So just how long do you wait before the… pawing?”

From behind the counter Luke laughs, head tipping up, “You made me wait years,”

Standing, dusting off her hands, she scoffs, “So this is payback?”

“This is patience.”

“Restraint.” she corrects, walking to the kitchen.

Luke grins and shrugs agreeing, “Restraint.” “What if I don’t want your restraint? What if the weight of this armor’s become too heavy to bear?”

She’s made her way back to him, Luke standing with his back to the counter next to his fridge, Penelope standing fingertips away. Her voice has taken on a sultry and soft tone, making heat flair up the back of his neck, making him feel warm. “Then it would only be right to help you out of it-”

Her hand splays high in the middle of his chest, midnight blue nails blending with his black shirt. “Luke, I don’t want a drink-“

He watches the flick of her tongue and her lips dip, the words so similar to ones she’d said that night, but the meaning now so different. The heat of her palm sends his heart racing and he’s thankful for her other hand loosening his grip on the glass he’d gotten out, hearing the dull clink of her setting it down beside him.

She presses into him, wanting the feeling from earlier, wanting as much of him on her as she can get.

“I had a dream once, like this,” her lips brush his as she speaks, “You and I,”

Her soft body moulding to his prompts Luke to release his hold on the counter edge and swap cold granite for warm flesh. His hand grips her ass under the coat, squeezing her closer, his hips involuntarily grinding against her. “Dream Luke-“ he offers.

“Mmm.” Penelope nods, sighing, allowing him to guide her against him. Her hands rest on his chest, thumbs stroking, her fingers curl and relax in slow pulses. She closes her eyes, swallowing, and her lips brush his again, teasing, “Right, Dream Luke,” His legs spread to accommodate more of her, both hands firmly griping low on either hip. She can feel the heat coming off his chest, feel his heart beating, feel as more and more of him comes to life between them. But if he wanted restraint, she’d play… a little

Tilting her head, she takes in his neck, the golden tan, the dimpled skin and shallow wrinkles, and then she places her mouth against it, sucking at the taut tendon along the side. Luke hisses in response, hands seizing, fingers digging into her ass, hard, clutching her in a rough grind. Penelope suppresses a moan, just the gentle vibrations reverberating across his skin, “Dream Luke’s shown me all over this place…”

At that Luke rolls them, firmly fixing Penelope between himself and the counter, the final straw, Penelope suggesting dirty dreams of him, and not just once, no, multiple times. His breath washes over her ear, hips rolling and hands planting on the cool counter top, Luke helplessly grinding his erection against her, “You are an assassin. You’re going to kill me.”

Her fingertips find his jaw as she pulls him back to face her. Her lids sink and her hips rise on his, lax smile falling into place, “Would you like to know my favorite?”

It seems to be the breaking point, at that he snaps forward, full lips slipping harshly across hers. His hands clutch her back and tangle in her hair. He nips and sucks and presses, the soft things, for as pillowy as they look, are just as well trained and muscular as the rest of him. They snap apart, each breathing hard, but just as quickly she fists his shirt pulling him back, hooking a leg around him to get as much contact as she can, a muffled sound of surprise as he lifts her mixing with his pleased groan.

His stubble scrapes and burns moving over her jaw and down her neck, his face disappearing between the edges of her coat, plush lips landing on her collar and then down her chest. She feels the moisture build on her breast as his humid breath targets each nipple, lips wrapping over wet silk, sucking, puckering, and then his tongue, wide and flat and firm and hot, causing her to clutch his back and buck into him, breathlessly calling out his name.

Holding her closer, he doles the same attention to her other breast, wanting more of that, the feeling of Penelope Garcia rolling like hot putty in his hands, the sweet sounds of her pants and moans swirling like music notes around them.

Her fingers tangle and twist, snagging in gelled curls, the sharp pain and ghosting sweeps sending tingles over his scalp and down his body. “Show me.”

“Huh?” Penelope, lost in the fervor, forgets her own teasing thread.

“Your favorite one-” His hands run up and down her thighs, the contrast of smooth skin and soft fur causing synapses to misfire.

“Oh. Right.” Sluggishly she pushes his chest, nudging him back, and grips his arms for stability as she slides off the counter, then moves closer, stepping into him. Lukes arms automatically come to hold her, slinging low on her hips, resting just so, comfortable there as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

Moving her hands to wrap around his neck, she tells him, “We would start like this, in your kitchen, kissing,” She kisses him again, deep, hands moving across his back and up into his hair, then down to his firm ass, squeezing lightly. She starts to walk forward, Luke taking the hint stepping back. “And as we do, we’re transported…somehow, to your bed.” Her words are a mumble on his lips, and really she’s quite grateful for it, positive if she had to say it without the added distraction of all of him on all of her she’d choke.

Luke pulls away, grinning, “Somehow, huh?”

The shine of his eyes, the soft crinkles, make her grin back, “you know-“

But all is left behind as Luke ducks into another kiss, guiding her as he blindly, artfully, navigates them through his home, all the while kissing her jaw and nuzzling her neck, “The only way I know how is like this.”

She relaxes in his hold, at the feeling of him nuzzling her, “Dreams tend to leave out good parts-“ her voice is watery and soft, soft like the rest of her.

Making it to his room unscathed, hand only briefly leaving her to fling the door shut behind them, he drops to his bed pulling her atop him. “Then what happens?”

The question is pressed below her ear, buzz buzzing straight to her groin. His voice is velvet and air, a delicious addition to his fingertips dragging up her thighs. Penelope smiles, falling into a deep kiss, and straddles him further, dissolving into a grinding rhythm.

Finding his wrists, her fingers cup and curl, bringing them up, easing him back against the bed, and plants them to the mattress, holding them just above his head.

Though he can easily get out, slip from her hold, flip them, he has zero urge to do so. He’s never minded being at the mercy of Penelope Garcia, now is no different, and if this is what she dreamed about, he was more than willing to go along with it.

Taut and stretched, Luke, hard beneath her, Penelope continues working herself up, slipping her heels off as she does. And, gods, he feels good. Her slick clit rubbing against her silk tap shorts against his rough jean erection, the leg of her shorts slipping up every now and then causing a sharp jolt as her exposed clit scrapes on welted denim, Luke bucking up to join her, her cry being swallowed down.

The sight above him is better than any dream, not because she’s more beautiful, not because it’s so very erotic, but because it’s real. Penelope’s above him, mouth dropped open, taking pleasure from him, giving pleasure- something he’d almost given up hope of ever happening…something he didn’t allow himself for years to think would happen- Penelope, flush and breathless, sighing unabashedly for him.

The weight of her soft body crashing in waves, the smell of her, oranges and ocean, tangling with the tanginess of her, her thighs, strong around his. The bright pink of her lipstick has left a stain on her lips, kiss-swollen and round, dropped open in a beautiful ‘O’, her hands grip his wrists tighter as she picks up speed, sighing above him. This was better than any thing he could dream.

After a particularly deep and watery, spine curving moan her hood falls forward entirely covering her face, now more bunny than Penelope, chest and neck red and damp. Unfortunately, too red, and he can’t shake the suspicion that the depth of her blush, the slickness in her palms on his wrists, isn’t entirely the result of their…enjoyment. It was time the armor came off.

Though he doesn’t try to break from her hold, after a well placed nip to his jaw, he risks breaking the mood…the moment, teasing, “Did that put a big enough chink in your armor, Chica?”

Single-mindedly chasing the build, she responds through sighs and grinds, not wanting to stop, not wanting to give herself the chance, “-Very big. Timing, Luke, I told you—it’s yours, when you’re ready-”

At that he shifts up, the suddenness and ease with which he pushes against her sitting them both upright nearly causing Penelope to fall backward. There’s a shriek of surprise and a flurry of hands as she flails to find balance and he rushes to keep her right where she is.

“Woah,” Luke laughs, holding first her wrists, then between her should blades, steadying her. After a beat a sturdy bracing hand slides lower down her back, and then both hands slide up her arms. She catches his eye and suddenly the smile is gone, Luke looking at her intently, with this focus, with this look. It’s soft, but full, so full…

His hands sweep the rim of her hood, fingers combing through and ruffling supple lavender fur as he comes up to push her hood back and off, the first stage. A halo of blonde frizz greets him, Penelope, perfect grinning lips, eyes shining back at him, and then he’s kissing her, mouth parting mouth, tongue brushing tongue, hands cradling her face.

Immediately Penelope responds, hips grinding, hands grasping, the deep kiss quickly building back into a thing of frenzy as her body washes into his. He wants to roll her over, hitch his jeans down and thrust into her, waste no time, feel her tighten around him as he pounds into her, jeans slung around his ass, her armor around them both, Penelope pitching, hips rolling, clutching him tightly and calling as she comes. But her hot, sweat slicked skin pressing against his snaps him back, and with effort, he slows their movements, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks and across her jaw. He moves them down the sides of her neck, and across her collar, until his large hands slip in the slim space between her body and fur, coaxing the coat down.

Descending, his fingers skate her arms, her eyelids fluttering in response, the cool air of his apartment rushing her hot skin, dimpling it in his wake. When the coat’s gone as far as it will go he loops a hand around each wrist, sliding her out, plucking her from the pooled protective layer, and presses a cool kiss to her heated wrists.

Penelope watches, the revere in his expression, the familiar tenderness in his touch, and feels her stomach sink as he brings her hand down, looking back up at her. He’s gorgeous, this man in front of her, a sexy, strong, selfless sweetheart who looks at her like she holds the world, touches her so full of care. He knows her, knows her family, and he loves her. He does. And she’s pretty sure… she loves him too.

“There.” Simple, smooth, the piece symbolically keeping him out for so long, after small finesse, gone. And though entirely within bounds, permitting himself the indulgent brush of soft calf and folded thigh before placing his hands back up her hips, thumbs swirling buttery skin, feels entirely illicit. This was never allowed, touching her, in this way, so openly, so directly, but the way her cheeks flush, and her lips wrap around his skin, and how the air escapes her throat in curling tendrils, invites him, calls him closer.

His eyes glitter like he’s just heard a joke, the ends of his mouth picking up, but Penelope doesn’t give him a chance to say whatever it is he’s found so funny. Pulling him in instead, she crushes her mouth to his, fingers twisting in inky knit, Penelope nearly sinking into inky darkness.

Hands again make their way under her top to her breasts, calloused finger pads dragging and teasing, scraping in delightful swirling zings, effervescence cascades her body, hips again rolling against his, clit to hardness again chasing and bucking, a hand moving to her hip, squeezing her in loving fist fulls, mouths crashing, strong palm guiding her, holding her closer and closer to him, firmer and firmer, quicker and quicker, her breath getting shorter, and higher, shorter- harder- Penelope becoming a wash of moans and half breaths matching the wild buck and grind of her hips until she’s coming on his lap in a sharp burst, and his wide palm is stroking up her bare back and god-

Luke is panting too, but she can feel him, ever present between them.

Swallowing thickly, summoning up a somewhat steady voice, she moves her hair off her face and takes off her fogged glasses, picking up the narration of earlier escapades with fantasy Luke, “by this point in the dream, we’d be naked, but I guess we still have to do that part ourselves…”

Luke ducks his head silently laughing, “I’ve never minded that part.”

“Good,” Penelope grins, and pulls at the hem of his shirt, quickly moving to his fly when his hands join hers to tug it over his head, Luke letting out a deep, short huff at the friction of his zipper coming down. In their tangle of limbs Penelope kneels up discarding her camisole as Luke lifts his hips, shucking off his jeans and underwear in one go. He’s now naked, and she, mostly so, atop him.

His cock throbs at the feel of her damp silk shorts sticking to him and the sight of her bare chest millimeters from him. Peaked, red nipples and proudly sloping breasts, for a moment he can’t help but stare. So often they’d been a starring feature of dreams he felt guilty for having, then guarded of, then desperate for, various necklines and fitted tops helping to sculpt his imagination, but he didn’t have to imagine anymore. Penelope undone, a rose garden in cream, red and pink patches blooming at his hand. Intently he studies their swell, their cresting, then dips forward, enveloping the soft tissue, sucking at her sweet perfumed skin, and rolls her sideways and up his bed.

His thick fingers tug at easily giving elastic, running slowly back up the side of her legs, the last layer gone. Pulling back, he watches her expression, her sighing and writhing beneath him at the smallest touch. Touches not unlike all the strokes and brushes he’d given before, touches he’d fantasized about meaning more.

Touches that had.

Touches that did.

Only now he was free to do it, free to show it, not hide away how she made him feel, how he wanted her, how every little twist and sigh and stroke of her skin made him light headed, made him dumb, made his thoughts race in a million different directions only to crash and converge into one. Into her. Into his need to feel her, hold her, touch her.

He can feel his heart race, the sensation of chasing something, racing towards some point, like an explosion he was running to, the exploding need to feel her -taste her- be inside her, to feel her around him.

Her expression breaks into this thing of warmth, excited anticipation, and her fingertips come up, tentatively reaching out to a curl. She watches as his eyes close, his whole body sinking at the stroke of her fingers, his head nodding and moving with her touch, Luke, so catlike, she can nearly feel the rumbles of his body purring against hers. He folds his lip in and slowly releases it, shining and full, opening his eyes, landing directly on hers. There’s a moment of brief hesitation, each reading the other, the moment, and then they’re snapped back together, Luke collapsing to his arms, scooping her up, warm breaths colliding and hot lips melting, and ‘finally, finally, finally…’ passing through her mind. He mouths at her neck, sucking and nipping, her hand clutching at his back and twisting for purchase in what short waves he has, Luke’s cock threading heavy through her slick labia, firm ridge rubbing her clit as his hips undulate back and forth.

Hiking a leg to wrap around his hip brings him deliciously, dangerously, closer, her chest lifting against his, her head pressing back with a cry. His hand roams from hip to breast and back down, thumb pressing in, each pass northward coupled with a lower exploration southward, going further, hand slipping behind to grip and grope at her ass, actions that drive her to distraction. So lit up, every brush vibrating with energy, Penelope, slipping, lost to the pressure of him, the action, lost in the way a body can make another’s feel so much, feel everything.

As he reaches out, stretching above her to open a side drawer, his abs go taut above her, Penelope skating a hand from stomach to chest feeling the hard-won armor he couldn’t shed. He dips his hips in response, cock grinding heavily against her throbbing clit, and gods, she could cum from that again alone, Luke parting her, the friction, pressing, and sucking, and biting, and kissing, his hands scooping and massaging, his broad chest pressing her, his hefty arms encompassing her. He’s slick and firm, tough, solid muscle coated in soft sweetness.

It was a condom he’d been reaching for, she feels the package stick to her arm as he grabs her, kissing her again. Penelope laughs into the kiss, unable to suppress the bubbling giddiness, “You want help with that?” She reaches between them, gripping and stroking his slick cock, Luke’s head sags to the pillow beside her, letting out a sigh.

His toes curl into the bedding at the feel of her small plump hand squeezing, pumping him, “Fuck- if you keep doing that we won’t need to-”

Penelope laughs again, a throaty, appreciative chuckle, and turns her head towards his, placing a sucking kiss to his neck and his jaw, “Put it on.”

He tears open the packet and rolls the condom on, Penelope stroking his ego, stroking his back. She hitches a leg further up, angling her hips, Luke’s hand between her guiding himself. He presses in, just his tip at first, then stops, waiting for her to adjust, he pushes in a bit more and pulls out, each slow and shallow thrust going deeper, further than the last, easing, Penelope snug and hot around him, wet and soft, her hot silken walls welcoming him further with each slow pass until the full length of him sinks into her, both letting out a moan at the full seat of the other.

Despite coming, she’s tight, and he keep stimulating her, cupping a breast, his thumb gently, slowly, stroking swirls around a nipple, teasing her while his other hand moves between them, touching her. Penelope’s mouth drops open, her hips rubbing agains him involuntarily, letting out a low whine at the contact.

He’s much bigger than he felt between her legs, bigger than he felt in her hand, larger still now that she has all of him moving in her. So full and taut he has her she can feel every drag on every cell, his thick fingers framing her in light caresses adding to the experience. He brushes up and down, avoiding the head of her clit while rolling in waves in and out of her. The head of his cock rubbing on a particularly nice spot, she clenches around him, Luke’s hand flying to tighten around his base, hips jerking still, cursing into the pillow next to her ear. He pants, then kisses her, hot and sloppy, Penelope grinning against his lips, dragging her nails across the top of his back.

“Wound tight?”

“Around you? Always. Just, uh, give me a sec-”

Her fingers curl in slow strokes across his neck, Penelope whispering a teasing, “I don’t believe it, that’s for the average. Nothing about you is average-“

Luke huffs, gently nuzzling her ear calming himself, “Why Ms. Garcia, that almost sounds like a compliment. You going soft on me, Chica?“

“Never- and I won’t let you go soft either.” Placing a hand over his own, she lightly squeezes, and kisses below his jaw, “Ready?”

His answer is in the form of lips pressing to hers, of his hand moving to stroke her clit and grip her soft hip, he thrusts up cupping her shoulder. It’s a syrupy dark kind of thrust, sticky, deep, slow; the kind of thing that makes her whole body contract and push out a rattling breath. “Fuck- Just like that-“ She feels the flex of his ass under her leg, the lift and swoop of his hips as he grinds into her and pulls out. His soft muscular lips move like a honey bee in a maddening swirl from throat to chest, tongue joining for little tasting dips here and there, and she can’t help but bring her hips down to join his on milky up thrusts, helping him to hit deeper, further.

Her soft body in his hands, Penelope around him, arms and legs holding him close, her slick cunt rocking with him, he’s lost in her keens and her sighs, her moans swathing them. He can’t get enough of her supple skin, how it gives beneath his mouth, how she tastes, sweet and salty, how she smells, every thrust up releasing a hush of perfume from silk waves, and he finds himself hoping the smell will permeate his sheets- a permanent reminder, proof of her in twists of thread.

He rolls his hips deeper, firmer with each thrust, Penelope rolling down to meet him, her hands clutching around his shoulder blades, nipping at his neck and sucking at his tendon between halted moans punctuated by jolting breath, their honied joining gradually picking up, faster, harder, faster- he grinds into her letting escape his own breathy moans, half made words and declarations. He gropes the flesh of her shoulders, hands moving beneath her, slipping up and down her back, hips thrusting roughly, her ankles crossing, knotting, locking around him and springing apart, hiking a thigh up to dig into his waist, and “Fuck!-“

Her hands scatter to his hair as his mouth moves to her neck, kissing and laving, her head tilting back, Luke moving to mouth the front of her throat. She can feel her own welling build, the weight and friction, the rhythm and hitch of him making full contact with her, over and over and over, massaging her clit, driving in and out, and in and in and in, jutting, rolling, hitting just right, just right, deeper, harder- she feels him close too, the grip of his fingertips, the depth of his inflection. Penelope nips his ear running a finger along it telling him so, telling him to keep going, “You’re so good- Fuck. Luke- yes, yes-” His fingers seize and he kisses her, coming, thrusting rough, hard, muscles in his ass screaming, and then a hand coming between them, rubbing firm circles to her clit, the added stimulation bringing her over, Penelope breaking the kiss, eyes slamming tight, crying out, Luke biting at her neck, her walls clenching, shuttering quick and harsh, Luke still bucking into her, fingers moving faster, her fingers curling as she feels a rush and comes again, or harder, her hips lifting to his, jaw stretching open, silently screaming, and then he’s slowing, and her body is going lax and his fingers tangle in her hair and his lips are on hers, soft and smooth and light and his hand moves up and down her side, and she doesn’t want to open them yet, doesn’t want to stop feeling him.

He rolls them to his left, Penelope draped across his side, her cheek sticking to his chest, each catching their breath.

His fingertips ghost the hairs of her arm, even still wanting to touch her, not wanting to stop.

They lay like that for what feels like an eternity, though can’t be very long at all, her mind is scrubbed, all thoughts quieted except for one. Braking the silence she quietly tells him, “That’s… pretty much how my favorite goes.”

“Pretty much? I’m pretty sure I lost a hip- What has me beat?!”

Unexpectedly she laughs, looking up at him, “Oh, no, you were fine- great. I just- only now we’d eat.”

“My phone’s in my jeans-" he knew they’d have to separate at some point, but he wasn’t ready just yet.

Seemingly on the same page, Penelope feels down the bed, offering a solution,“Mine’s in my coat pocket.”

Condom removed, tied, and tossed in the waist bin next to his bed, and food ordered, Penelope still snug at his side, she tosses her phone and stretches up to kiss him, brief, soft, “30 minutes, we should get ready…but I don’t think there’s time for each of us to take a shower, we might have to clean up together”

Luke grins, kissing her and nipping her lip, “And to think some people doubt your genius.”

#garvez #criminal minds #penelope garcia #luke alvez #fan fiction #smut #snails tales #ao3 #writing

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