#spring cannot come soon enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elsweetheart · 1 year

Text

cats cradle

synopsis: ellie and her failed lab experiment bestie navigate her first ever heat.

♪ lana del rey, the weeknd — stargirl interlude ♪

cw: whew, this is gonna be a lot. fem reader, reader is a failed lab experiment which gives her cat like appearance in a few ways (ears, tail, claws etc) not furry porn, reader is mentioned to be 20 purely just for detail purposes but you can just change to whatever in your head idk, readers tail touches ellie in the night without knowing really lol, smut / strap on sex / foreplay / dry humping, overstimulation, small blood kink feature but nothing crazy at all, reader is just crazy and horny and primal, cockwarming. lmk if i missed any !

an: alrighty, here it is. i cannot stress this enough — if this isn’t your kind of thing, please just don’t read it. i won’t be offended if you don’t, i just don’t wanna hear any bs in my inbox please! this was experimental and i don’t even know if i like this fic or not so please be gentle. to the people who have been so sweet and encouraging throughout my up and downs of writing this, thank you and i love you! as usual, minors and ageless blogs do not interact you aren’t welcome here. enjoy! 🐈‍⬛ 🤍

WINTER

Spring would be here soon. That was all you could think of, a dull anxiety thrumming in the pit of your stomach at the thought. You stared at the solitary bright yellow flower peeking through its blanket of snow, the downfall of ice from the blizzard outside the window beating it mercilessly against the wind— and yet it stood, continuing to pop back up, almost like it was taunting you. You wished you could love spring. The thing about seasons changing was that they happened without permission and whether you liked it or not. Truthfully, you loved the idea of flowers and dresses and warmth on your skin, but it made it all the more difficult to hide the…elements of you that people wouldn’t understand. You weren’t talking about scars, or hair or bumps, no. You were talking about —

“What’cha lookin’ at.” The mellow voice of your best friend Ellie Williams broke you out of your thoughts, traipsing up behind you to sit with you on the window seat, tucked into an alcove below rotting bay windows in the abandoned house the two of you were holed up in on patrol, whilst the blizzard outside came down hard. She gets comfortable, drawing her knees up as she leant against the chipped paint, accommodating to make more room for you. Your head snapped towards her, towards her grey hoodie that — wasn’t you wearing that last night? shutup, and her khaki green jacket zipped up over it, jeans and Converse and messy bun tucked into the nape of her neck. Pretty. Always pretty. Always just a friend you couldn’t touch. Not how you wanted to, anyway.

“Nothing? Just watching the snow fall.” You sigh out wistfully, knowing you’d both rather be in bed on this early, freezing cold morning.

“Yeah? Y’looked worried about something.” She rasps, toeing you with the dirtied white tip of her maroon chucks and tilting her head. You dart your eyes back to the yellow flower springing up to see it finally get pummelled down by a huge globe of powdery snow. Hah.

“Just scared the snow will cover up the door and lock us in here.” You nibble your lip, tugging your pink wooly hat tighter over your head, ensuring it was still in place. She shook her head, casually, and her blasé attitude to most things often eased any anxieties that dwelled within you.

“There’s a smashed window in one of the rooms I checked, can climb out if we need to. S’why it’s so fuckin’ freezing in here.” She rubbed her arms in tribute to this statement, puffing out her cheeks for a moment. “You not cold?”

“Oh, I’m cold.” You flit your eyes over her with faux judgement. “Just not being a baby about it.” She huffs out a laugh, folding her arms.

“Fuck you, dude.”

Dude. You roll your eyes. Always dude, but ‘baby’ in your late night daydreams. You scrub the thought away.

An hour passes, and the snow is still coming down hard. 8:54AM.

“Okay, I’m sorry — what do you mean you’ve never played truth or dare before. Have you like, never met someone your age?” She’s smirking, always relishing in your lack of general knowledge because honestly, it made her feel like she had more to offer and teach you. You’re drawing a palm tree on the window’s condensation, the tropical sight doing nothing to mask the dreary weather outside of it.

“Okay first of all, we aren’t the same age — you’re twenty-two. That’s a few more years of experience to learn stuff that I haven’t.”

“And how old are you again? Eighteen?” She pretends to think.

“Twenty. And you knew that, idiot.”

She snickers, muttering a teasing “Baby face.” under her breath, drawing a comical penis shape with her finger beside your palm tree making you tsk and swat her away.

“Secondly, no— my old camp were all like, old people. I was the youngest there. Didn’t have anyone to teach me any of your weird games.”

It took you about twelve years of your life to realise that normal preteen girls didn’t have pointed ears atop their head, or a tail, or retractable claws and fangs. You knew you were different, yes. No one else in your small camp had features quite like yours, and you really knew you were different because you spent your life in hiding. Under protection. Ears shoved under hats and tail bunched beneath tight jeans. Hence, you know — the fear of warmer weather approaching.

You didn’t quite know where you came from and you were okay with that. Whispers between the couple that raised you, talks of your real dad being a scientist before this all went down which explains things… enough. You didn’t really want to know how you ended up this way, because it couldn’t have been good — or ethical for you to grow up part girl part animal.

19 years old, and you had moved into Jackson. Found at the gate. No more camp. No more found family. Just a girl who survived, stood in the snow. You’d met Ellie, a friend of Jesse who’d found you — and the two of you had hit it off instantly, as friends of course. Ellie liked how different you are to her, pretty naive with lots to learn in comparison to her hard edges and weathered attitude. When you weren’t biting back playfully at her sarcasm you were the ray of sunshine she’d needed in the snow globe that she lived in. She’d even stepped up to take you with her on patrol and ease you into learning how to fend for yourself a little, a skill you never acquired with your old group. That brings you here, sat on a window seat, trapped by a blizzard, doing very little learning. Okay, back to you Ellie.

“Truth or dare is not weird, I swear. Look, we can play it. Pass the time whilst we wait for the blizzard to chill out. You in?”

“Okay.”

“So,” She crosses her legs now. “You can pick, truth or dare. If you don’t answer your truth, I get to pick a dare. And uh, vice versa. Yeah. It’s simple.”

You nod, and she continues — rambling in typical Ellie style.

“Like, okay. Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” You grin happily.

“Alright, I dare you to run into the blizzard naked.”

“Uh — truth! Truth!” You change your answer, making her laugh.

“Alright… tell me about your first kiss.” She’s giddy, on the precipice of a laugh, dying to make fun of whatever story you come out with and you falter, dragging your eyes back to the window. The palm tree you drew in the condensation is starting to drip and create long clear lines down the window.

“I already told you, never met people around my age so… haven’t had one.” You shrug, peeling a bit of old paint off the windowsill. You glance up and she’s nodding with her lips turned down, trying really hard not to look judgy because she wasn’t, she swears and she didn’t want you to feel bad. She tucked away the thought that she found it cute. Found you cute. The thought of being your first kiss flashed through her mind as quickly as she erased it.

“Alright. No shame in the game. We’ll get you there.” She pats your foot reassuringly and you tense up in embarrassment slightly, a claw spiking through the knit of your glove making you close your palm into a fist on your lap. Ellie had heaps of experience, which kind of made your confession more embarrassing.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Her answer is almost instant.

“Boring.” You giggle.

“Whatever.”

You sigh… eyes wandering around the room, over the dusty canvases on the wall with paintings of mountains, perhaps the very mountains that surrounded your town— you couldn’t tell. What could you ask her? What did you actually want to know? What didn’t you already know? You bite your lip, eyes flickering around.

“Take your time.” She raises an eyebrow and you huff at her impatience.

“Okay, tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before. A secret that’ll literally bind us for life.” Your eyes twinkle and now it’s her turn to falter. She doesn’t want to glance at her covered arm, but she does anyway. Not that you’d ever be able to guess her big secret. No one could, you probably wouldn’t even believe her.

“Good question, see you’re getting the hang of it.” She raises her eyebrows, impressed and you bask in the sound of the icy winds outside, head slowly tilting to the side as you watch her grow a little uneasy. Ellie Williams, your best friend had a big secret. And you knew all of her secrets, so you were doubly intrigued. You knew about the time her and Dina got too drunk and kissed before practically yelling at eachother that it felt too wrong and they’d never do it again, you knew about the time she didn’t wanna trade any items at the little store for food so she selfishly shoved a can of tomato soup in her pocket and ducked out, knew all the rest of them because you remember her drunkenly shoving her hand over your giggling mouth and whispering “You actually can’t tell anyone, okay? Shit, why do I tell you these things?”

“Okay. I’m immune.”

“To being slapped? Answer my truth or face your forfeit.” You were grinning ear to ear, like she thought you would and — she nearly wanted to just leave it there. Let you believe she was joking. But oh, your perceptive self. You saw the falter of her bashful expression, the way honesty coloured her face and for once she couldn’t make eye contact. Surely not? “Immune?” You repeat, more like a statement but you’re confused nonetheless.

“Uh, yeah.” There’s no humour in her tone and yet you’re still smiling, waiting on her still to smirk or chuckle or something. When you just stare at her, she starts to undo her jacket. “I can uh, I can kind of prove it, I guess?” She pushes her hoodie sleeve up, and you’re faced with the tattoo you’ve stared at many times before. The pink pad of her finger traces along the inside of her arm, and your eyes focus — honing in on the faint scar curtained behind the dark blue ink. “There… was a bite here. Me and my friend were together when we were kids and we both got bit. She turned and… yeah, guess I’m still waiting.” Her eyes were distant, and yeah — Ellie played jokes on you sometimes. You were gullible and naive, not having faced the usual prankish behaviour of people similar in age to you before but this? She wasn’t that great of an actor. There was actual, real life pain behind her avoidant gaze.

“You’re serious?” You furrow your brows and she purses her lips, a pinkie-finger of gesture held in the air.

“Swear.”

You stare at her arm, and she reaches for her jacket again — feeling the chill of the house again despite an uncertain heat creeping up her neck. “How do you know it wasn’t just a one off?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll know if I get bitten again.” She chuckles dismissively. You go to speak, tell her how life changing her secret was but she’s quicker. “Alright, your turn. Now I’ve told you something no one else knows you gotta do the same. Biggest secret, go.” She exhales, and it feels like the room is alleviated of some of the pressure.

“Excuse me, what if I wanted to pick dare?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

Your ears twitched and you brought your knees to your chin. Ellie was just so vulnerable with you, but you’d always been told — under every single circumstance not to tell anyone about your…rarity. It was something that not even you understood, so sharing it with others could put you in danger. People often lashed out at what they didn’t understand, you were told it was that way in the old world too— though you’re sure people weren’t quite dealing with being a hybrid with a literal animal.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for my secret.”

“Dude, I just fucking told you I can’t get infected, you’re not gonna top that.” She exasperated, prodding your leg with her knuckles. She didn’t beat around the bush with her secret, or make you beg for the reveal — so you figured you’d cut straight to the chase. You pulled your hat off your head, ears standing to attention — hearing just that tiny bit clearer. Ellie raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was looking at, about to make some kind of comment like ‘Uh, your secret is that you have hair?’ — until her eyes darted up and stayed there. You pulled off your gloves too and held your hand between the two of you, sharp claws extending. Ellie jumped, and you pulled back shamefully.

“What is… what am I… what am I looking at?” She gawked breathlessly, eyes widening at the way your ears twitched shyly, the outside of them coated by fur the same colour as your hair, the inside of your ears pink, sprouting wispy white hair from it. Ellie could barely keep her mouth closed.

“Yeah, so… I’m like a girl who is also a cat who is also just a girl— nothing weird I swear — apparently my dad was a scientist and he made some fucked up combination DNA and — ah, it doesn’t matter. I’m a freak. Laugh it up.” You ramble, waving your hand in a way you hoped was dismissive and in that moment a gun to your head wouldn’t have made you make eye contact with the auburn haired friend parallel to you.

“Hey, wait — I’m just trying to… holy shit?” She furrows her brows before chuckling. “I feel like I’m having a weird ass dream right now, dude.”

You reach for your hat to shove it back on, and her heavy hand lays on top of yours. She watched the way your ears flattened like aeroplane wings and you frowned a little. “I’m sorry… I’m not laughing at you. That’s… fucking awesome. You’re like a comic book character, man.”

Your eyes lifted from her hand, heart thundering in your chest both from her reaction to your big reveal and her hand laying on yours. “So, a freak.” You go to move your hand but she grips it.

“No, just… cool… don’t… put your hat back on yet. I’ve got questions.”

A pause sat between the two of you, and she broke out into a smile again. “Fuck you, your thing totally beats my thing.”

“Thats not a question, Els.”

11:20AM

“So does this mean you’re immune too? Pretty sure animals can’t get infected.”

The window had fogged over completely now, view of beyond the window obstructed but you didn’t mind. It felt more enclosed, in a good way. The outside world didn’t exist anymore.

“I’m not fully an animal though. Don’t wanna risk finding out.”

She sat back, looking at you incredulously. Not like you were a spectacle, or a circus performer from the old world — but like you were something magnificent. Like a unicorn, or a fairy.

“This is gonna… take me some time to get used to. You sure you’re not fuckin’ with me?” She turns her head suspiciously.

“Oh I’m pretty sure. Had to live my whole life with cat ears and a tail, would be a awfully sick prank.” You huff, focusing your attention on scraping off the shimmery pink nail polish you had acquired on a previous patrol. You’d painted them to distract from the subtle claw-like appearance they had even when they weren’t extended.

“You have a tail? Show me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just pull down my pants.”

“Oh shit, yeah. My bad.”

You sat together, and you shifted under her gaze, palms itching to pull your hat back over your ears, shielding yourself from her prying gaze. This was… out of your comfort zone. You trusted Ellie with your life, sure. But this was a lot. You’d been hiding this element to your self your whole life and suddenly you’re practically hollering it from the mountain tops all because you were enticed to share a secret during a silly little game? Who else would you tell just because they’d given you positive attention?

“You wanna touch my ears?” You blurt out. What the fuck?

Ellie’s smile grew, telling you her answer and it was too late to take it back now. She slid her ass forward a little, knees pressing directly against yours now and lifted her hand slowly, carefully, almost as though you’d spook like a real cat if she moved too quickly. You seemed to blink, and then she was right there, her face so close to yours that her warm breath fanned over your face making your eyelashes tickle at the breeze she created. She clears her throat, eyes just floating up above your hairline and you feel the pads of her fingers gently trail down the backs of your ears.

She lets her knuckles gently smooth back the velvety fur coating, before getting more comfortable — short blunt nails scratching right in that sweet spot behind them. With the ball of her hand gently pressed to your temple as she scratched, you melted. The best way to describe it would be the feeling of sinking into a hot bath after being out in the cold wind, rain and snow. A sheet of goosebumps lined up across your arms and up your spine, your tail struggling in your jeans to curl up in pleasure. There was a gentle humming sound, like an engine maybe… a low rickety wind passing through a wooden floor board…

“Are you purring?” She cooed, and your eyes fluttered open. You don’t even remember closing them. The ghost of an alarmed bullet shot through your body but it just… felt too nice to react. Your pupils were dilated to fuck, it was almost startling to see.

“I guess.” You chuckle, a shudder flying through you, the warm purring sound continuing on. “Sorry.” You offer, but it’s half hearted.

“No, don’t.” She whispers with an impressed smile, eyes pinned by your intense gaze — voice gentle, as if not wanting to break the intimate force field she’d created around the two of you. “You’re so… cute.” She grins enough to show her teeth now, you rest the weight of your head more into her hand, pushing for more scratches now that her fingers slowed down, distracted. Your eyes flutter closed, sleepy and euphoric— and then open once more, a constant battle between wanting to just melt away, and also wanting to look at Ellies beautiful face so close up. She seemed to get closer each time you opened them, eyes drifting from your blackened gaze… to your lips…

Maria’s voice was the last thing you expected to hear in that moment and you both jumped. It was static-y, buzzing, making your head snap towards the radio Ellie had let clatter to the floor beneath the window seat. “Blizzards gone and cleared up now, two of you can start headin’ back now before it decides to pick up again.”

You swipe at the fogged window creating a viewing hole through the condensation, snow settling now instead of batting down hard against the ground. You sigh out, and you’re not sure if it’s in relief of the weather clearing up or the tension breaking — but Ellie seems to be shaking herself out of it too.

“Alright, uh — y’ready to head back out there kitty-cat?” She’s back to her usual self, hopping off the window seat and scooping her backpack and radio off the ground, securing them back onto her person.

“Ready as ever. Can’t wait to go home and nap.” You stretch, now standing beside her waiting for instruction. She sways in your direction with a smirk, raising a brow.

“A cat nap?”

“Are you gonna do this from now on?” You hide your amusement, leaning on your hip. She chuckled to herself, pulling her gloves back on before nodding her head for you to follow — taking off in a casual stride.

“Sorry. Let’s go get Shimmer from the garage.”

You pout, padding along behind her as you think of her stood there alone. “I hope she wasn’t too cold. She was shut in there for ages.”

“She’ll be fine. Old girl’s a trooper.”

SPRING

You didn’t regret telling Ellie, infact you were so glad.

It seemed to have brought you closer, the two of you against the world. The weather had finally cleared of snow by mid April, the green returning to all of nature. She’d helped you accommodate, coming to your home in the mornings and helping you pin your ears down to your head, gently manoeuvring your hair to sit on top of them, inconspicuous. Asking you “Does that hurt?” and “Can you hear?” in a sleepy morning voice. You, on the other hand would sit there trying not to pur at her touch. There was still some bite in the air, especially around evening time so you could still get away with stuffing your tail into your jeans, but the two of you often walked around in the sunshine on the days one or both of you weren’t outside the gate on patrol. Nights were spent having sleepovers, falling asleep cuddling because you know — it was convenient and cold at night time, especially convenient if you were getting up early for a patrol together. Definitely not because you wanted to spend every waking moment together.

You had been curled up reading, relaxed, ready to head to bed in an hour or so when there was a knock at your door. Your ears perked up, and you scuttled out of bed and looked through your peep hole, relieved to find the wind bitten, pink cheeked face of your best friend. You figured she’d just gotten back from patrol, swaddled in a khaki green windbreaker and jeans, hair in your favourite style — half up half down. You swing the door open, ushering her in.

She doesn’t mean to ogle you, but it happens anyway — eyes drawn to your bushy tail shyly curling round your thigh, a hole cut in the back of your pyjama shorts specifically for that reason when you turned around. “Hey you, couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back to my house. Plus, I got somethin’ to show you.” She wiggles her brows, heading to your room.

“Y’want a drink?” You call after her to which she promptly replies with “Please!” already disappearing into the warm comfort that was your bedroom. Your bedroom, a God damn hassle for Ellie to construct. You had… a vision, and that vision became Ellie’s problem when you’d started to build your little home space. “Els if you see any pink blankets on your patrol today please please please grab me one?” “Ellieeee I need a picture frame, like — a cute one.” “If I don’t get a fluffy throw cushion for my bed soon, I might die.” The list goes on. Her patrols were ever-filled with heavy backpacks, trinkets carefully balanced on top of eachother or stuffed into pockets. She smiles warmly at the memory, walking around your room — taking in each item along with its memory of finding it and smuggling it back into Jackson. Her eyes are glazing over your bed sheets now, thinking about you curled up in the you-spaced shape you’d left on the blankets, thinking about you fast asleep in the night beautiful as ever, thinking about you writhing on them with less clothes on — gross, Ellie — shake it off.

A matted tuft of darkened hair peeped from your mass of bed covers and Ellie squinted, bending over to get a closer look before pinching it with her fingers and lifting it. A clump of hair sat in her palm and she raised her eyebrows. Was that a —

“What you lookin’ at?” Your voice is sudden, lighthearted, right behind her— and she jumps, turning her head over her shoulder to glance at you guiltily. You stand wide eyed and innocent, a glass of water for her clutched in your hand.

“Jesus, fuck — we gonna have to get you a collar with a bell on it or what?” She rolls her eyes, clutching her chest before recovering, taking her glass and sipping as she holds up her findings. For a moment, something twitches in you down below at the thought of wearing a bell around your neck for Ellie. The feeling is warm and homely and disgustingly horny and you feel a little shame. She swallows her water an ‘ah’ and explains “Was just uh— I found a fur ball.”

You look at the clump of hair in her hand, then up at her, then back to the clump — and then you’re moving past her. You straighten out your blankets, revealing a hair brush and hold it up— plucking the ‘hairball’ from her hand and grasping it side by side. “From my hairbrush… doofus.”

Ellie makes an ‘o’ shape with her mouth and chuckles, scratching her arm awkwardly after placing down her glass — feeling maybe she’d jumped to a conclusion. This feeling is unfortunately confirmed when she sees your brows furrow, softening in stature ever so slightly.

“Do you really think I’m like… dirty and animalistic? I don’t get fur balls, Ellie.” You sound defeated and just a smidgen whiny, but she’s a sucker for it and grasps your arms gently either side with two strong hands.

“No! I’m an idiot! I’m sorry. Total jackass.” She reassures and you tilt your head, pout turning into a gentle smile. This gives her the green light to move things along. “However, I did get you a little something that might help us understand your… condition a little better.” The auburn haired girl is already shucking off her black beaten up backpack, struggling with the zip for a moment before sliding out a thick hard back book, a manual of some kind. Her eyes are on you, searching for any sign of offence and you catch the title when she spins it around proudly — ‘Caring for your kitty’.

She’s off like a race car with an excited explanation before you even get the chance to breathe, opening it up and flicking through it. “Stopped at that old library today, you know the one we thought the entrance was blocked off and we couldn’t go inside? Well — Jesse found another way in — so I was just lookin’ around, seeing if there was anything interesting and I found this bad boy. It tells you everything you need to know about caring for a cat and well… don’t wanna be a dick but… I’m caring for a cat, kind of.”

As she spoke, your grin only widened — pathetically, and totally embarrassingly so, because it was going against everything you had taught your self. You’d wanted to push this side of you down for what, your whole life? And then Ellie comes along, with her pretty green eyes and her tattoo and her hand veins and her — whatever, and suddenly you’re completely and utterly embracing the fact you’re like, absolutely fucked up, genetically? Crushing on your best friend makes you do crazy, stupid things. You bat your eyelashes at her, regardless.

“You care for me?” It was kind of a joke, but your voice came out softly anyway and Ellie couldn’t look at you because of it, continuing to thumb through the pages, very concentrated, what was that one page again?

“Why’d you think I brought this big ass manual back? Wanna look after you.” She mutters. You soften completely, and she realises that she said that out loud. You look at her, and she looks at you — and then she looks away because God damn, she’s falling in love. “Anyways. Thought we could go through it together. You got those sweatpants I left here? My jeans are like, damp.” She rambles, and you let it slide — though you’re positively floating when you point her to your dresser, pressing the neatly folded grey pants into her arms with a hazed out smile. “Thanks.”

You turn around when she changes. You’re not sure why, she’s wearing boxers — and you have some skirts stashed away that are probably shorter and more revealing (which you unfortunately couldn’t wear due to having a tail) but you look away anyways, out of respect. You clamber back onto your bed waiting for her, and soon she’s sliding up beside you in just her black tshirt and sweatpants, comfy and warm. Ellie clears her throat, sitting up against the headboard and opens the manual for the two of you to check out. “Ahem, caring for your kitty. With special thanks to Juliana.” She reads formally and you giggle, scooching closer until your cheek is pressed to her arm so that you could see the book. “Shout out to Juliana.” She comments, flipping the page.

You snuggle in closer to her, because well — it feels natural. The two of you had always been affectionate since becoming friends and since you’d shared your secrets it had only become more binding. When Joel had comment that you two were literally attached at the hip, it was by no exaggeration. The fat of your cheek pushed up enough to shut one eye as you practically tried to merge with her bicep, warm breath tickling her light arm hair.

“Y’always smell like oatmeal.” You comment, voice sleepy from her warmth and she’d barely even gotten the chance to read anything yet.

Her hand freezes on the page for a millisecond as she acknowledges your statement. “So— wait, oatmeal? That’s gross dude. I don’t wanna smell like oatmeal.” She complains, causing you to lift your head having busted out into a giggle fit. She lifts her hand and sniffs it, looking at you with a displeased expression trying to decipher your observation.

“No! It’s a good thing I like it. It’s just… Ellie smell.” You rub your eye tiredly and she’s fighting every urge not to kiss all over your cheeks at how God damn adorable you are.

“Oatmeal. Great.” She chuckles, shaking her head before nudging you with her elbow — a silent command for you to lay back down on her so that she could read.

And the two of you did, for a little while anyway. The manual was more helpful than the both of you had originally thought, and you came to realise that you had a lot more in common with the animal than you’d had believed. Between each paragraph, the two of you would launch off into conversations and comparisons, Ellie asking you questions about your behaviours and habits. It made your heart swell at how much she truly cared. “Kitten will feel attached to her owner when being scratched behind the ears.” Ellie reads out monotonously, thinking, before reaching up and scratching behind your ears. “To say I’m your owner would be a little crazy, I must admit. Can’t deny you some good old scratches though.” She chides in amusement, watching your happy smile melt into a dozed pur. You can own me, Ellie — God you can —

She read and read and read until you were nodding off, eyes fluttering shut and disappearing off into a dream land as Ellie’s raspy voice trails off, fondly watching you as your lips parted a little, more of your warm weight sinking into her side. “Okay.” She whispered, to no one in particular— and closed the book quietly, stretching to reach behind her and place it on your bedside table, turning off your lamp too.

Ellie was always a light sleeper, maybe she was paranoid or just protective — because she seemed to wake up constantly when she’d stay with you. Not that you didn’t make her feel more relaxed than anyone ever had, because you certainly did. She just… fuck, she didn’t know. She needed to be alert at all times. Just in case.

Tonight was like any other time, stirring at the cooing of a heavy wind outside the rattling windows. Her eyes found the back of your head immediately and settled a little, comfortable and dozed with the feeling of your ass grazing her front and the warmth of your back blanketing her. You slept like two people in love and if she were more awake she’d probably mourn the relationship that was out of her grasp. Too much of a pussy, too much of a risk to ruin things. But this, this she could enjoy in her half awake consciousness.

She was about to drift back off, perhaps a deeper sleep this time knowing that everything is alright and you’re safe from the harsh winds of Spring. Until, she felt a prodding. That was the best way to describe it. Like you were poking her, despite both of your arms being curled at your front visibly. She panicked for a moment, which woke her enough to open her eyes and gaze down at whatever the hell was poking her in the stomach. Your tail.

It curled at the end like a question mark, curious and wandering. She watches, fascinated at how you could be sound asleep and yet your tail had a mind of its own. It knocked on her, like it was asking for entry before it poked lower, lower, Jesus, lower. Without time for her to respond, your tail slots itself between her thighs, curling around and cupping her cunt. She gasps, bringing a hand up that was originally going to cover her mouth, but ran over her own head instead, frozen and unsure of what to do in this situation.

Why was your tail touching her up whilst you slept innocently on the other end of it? She knew you were sleeping for sure because of the quiet snores and the even quieter hum of your pur — making her wonder how she never noticed it before you’d told her about your rarity. Your tail slithered like a snake as if trying to get comfortable, which made Ellie’s mouth hang open as it practically moulded itself to the shape of her. The agile tip of your tail curled around, brushing against the material of her sweatpants all the way up to her clit and she winced, enough to stir you a little. Your tail seemed to go a little limp as you groan quietly, your sleep disturbed. God, what if she wakes up and finds me like this? Her fucking tail getting me off. That’s weird, oh god — you’re a creep Ellie. Move, move now. Jesus.

She spins around so the two of you are back to back, staring at the wall. Ellie clenches her thighs so that your tail can’t slip through them and grope her again, frowning as she squeezes her eyes closed in shame at how good it felt. It was wrong. Wrong and creepy and awful and she hated herself for letting it go on for that long. She willed herself to sleep, repeating those words like a mantra.

The next day you plant flowers together in the community garden. She doesn’t bring it up.

SUMMER

There were certain pages in the manual that the two of you would skip. It was too awkward, too intrusive — pages you would separately read in your own time.

If you don’t get your female cat spayed, they’re going to go into heat. How exciting! And if you’re experiencing kitty in heat for the first time, you’re probably wondering: how do I cope with this? Dealing with a restless, frisky kitty may seem like a challenging task, but it’s not nearly as difficult as you may think. We’ve outlined plenty of quick tips and suggestions to help calm your cat down in the short term, as well as some solutions to prevent heat in the long term. In just a few minutes, you’ll be able to give your loving furball the support and respite she needs during this tough time.

Ellie snickered when she read it the first time, a night where you’d fallen asleep at her house, curled up on the end of the bed by her feet. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there, it just happened — trying to give yourself space on the particularly warm evening. Not everything in this manual applied to you, like you’d insisted plenty of times — you’re mainly all human. Despite the purring, you hadn’t felt you’d demonstrated any feline-like behaviours (Ellie disagrees strongly, but can’t bring herself to argue.) That night she had sat up later, reading about cats in heat — wondering if… you’d ever… what would she do… no, Ellie. Stop.

When summer had approached, something had flipped. Things were normal until they weren’t— and at first you could blame it on the weather, the serotonin flooding everyone’s systems from the influx of Vitamin D, being able to wear less and enjoy more. Days seeming longer. Life seeming better. You’d grown more affectionate with Ellie, not fighting the urge anymore to be touching her at all times. Gently sinking your teeth into her freckled skin when you felt the urge, wrapping your tail around her leg when you’d stand side by side in your kitchen, clambering onto her lap with the manual and urging her to read some more so you could get sleepy and comfortable and fall asleep on top of her. You saw the way people would look at the two of you around Jackson together, they thought you were together — and you didn’t mind — even though you weren’t. Just two super close best friends.

When the calendar had rolled over to July, things seemed to intensify by ten. Things were changing, urges growing stronger. You couldn’t control yourself purring when Ellie would simply enter the room, kneading your claws into your seat of the canteen area pulling up threads, needing to be near her. Practically vibrating the floorboards in total bliss when she’s give you a friendly, subtle ear scratch in public being careful not to unpin your ears. Saliva pooling inside your mouth with the urge to lick her all over when she’d arrive to your home late at night after a rough patrol, ready to crawl into bed beside you and surrender herself to your grabby paws hands. Wanting to pounce on her when she’d greet you by the gardens, knuckle knocking gently beneath your chin with a friendly “Mornin’ kitty-cat.” Worst of all, the growing neediness you’d succumb to each night you weren’t together, mewling as you’d grind against a pillow pretending it was her thigh, soaking the sheets. You were starting to accept that you were experiencing your first ever heat.

You particularly enjoyed summer evenings in Jackson. The air was was balmy and warm without the scalding, overwhelming sunshine like there was in the day. Most if not all citizens would be in the town centre at movie night or the bar — which created a perfectly calm and empty landscape for walks. It was one that day, the one that’s about to unfold — that you were particularly dazed. You felt high, sensitive, walking on air. You wear a bell around your neck now, a giggly patrol gift from Ellie — something that tinkles quietly and could be confused with simple jewellery to the untrained eye. It sounds each step you take, a comforting noise that was special to you and your best friend. Your summer dress grazed above your knees, and due to no one being around, you didn’t quite care that your tail would occasionally peak out when a warm breeze would pass through.

You stroll past the flowers you and Ellie had planted in spring, stroll past the empty playground with the wooden climbing equipment that you had to continue walking on from to not give into the urge to dig your aching claws into. Your mind was set on finding Ellie — Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, who’d supposedly just be returning home from patrol. As expected, nothing quite getting past your astute cat wisdom — there she stood, facing away from you in just her adorable oversized white tshirt, greenish brownish greenish flannel and long baggy denim shorts. Your whole body felt hot and the sight of her, heart pumping and palms tingling. Approaching slowly, you hear her quietly talking to Shimmer as she undresses her of her equipment, occasionally stopping to give her affectionate pats and love. Ellie was always good with animals.

Figures.

You step closer, alerting Ellie of your presence. “Here kitty.” She smirks, continuing to remove Shimmer’s saddle before turning over her shoulder, eyeing you briefly.

“How’d you know I was here?” You swoon, dumb smile on your face as you step up to her. Probably too close, but something inside of you was clawing to be able to smell her, be able to feel the warmth radiating off her body. She doesn’t react to the proximity, just lifting a finger and jingling the bell at your neck. You fight a shudder when her coarse fingertip grazes the soft skin of your neck.

“Hard to miss you. That bell was definitely a good investment, you’re not sneakin’ up on me anymore, huh.”

She continues tending to Shimmer as you watch, a fond smile on your face.

“How was patrol? ‘Missed you.” You tug at her flannel sleeve for attention and she chuckles good naturedly, rolling her eyes.

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I? You’re always missing me lately. Is somethin’ up?” She turns her head to you again inquisitively, concern flashing through her eyes — as well as the stream of bright light from the sunset through the crack in the barn wall. She squints.

“Uh…” You sigh out softly. Yes. I need you. I want you. Come here. Fuck me. “No. I dunno.” You shrug, forcing yourself to look away, defeated. No, you’re here for a reason. “Can you come over tonight? Sleepover?” You realise you’re still clinging to her sleeve and she’s letting you, her eyes drifting to the way your hand slides downwards and catches her hand, intertwining your fingers. You know, just best friend things.

“Jesse asked me to hang out but…” She started, but trailed off when you became all fluttery lashes and bambi-eyed. “Fuck it,” She breathes. “I’m too tired for his shit today anyway.”

You grin, successful and tilt your head. “Not too tired for my shit?” and she scoffs, squeezing your hand.

“Never.”

She steps back, your joined hands bridging the two of you still. Her eyes are trailing down again. That little sundress, she hadn’t seen that before. Maybe hanging in your closet, but not out of the house. Her eyes dip lower and she sees a flash of fur swinging behind you, jostling your dress. Her eyes widen a little. “Hey.” She emphasises, nodding her head down. You’re still staring at her, at her freckles and the way they’re shaded from the sun — a halo of bronze and natural flush.

“Hm?” You sing. She furrows her brows.

“Your dress is short.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“What? Uh— fuck, I mean, yeah — but I’m saying other people might see your…” She nods again in gesture, nervous.

“Tail?” Your fingers trail up her flannel sleeve a little.

“Yeah. People might not be as… open to all that, babe.” Babe. A slip up, usually — usually said when she wanted to soften the blow, or when she physically couldn’t stop the affection from meeting her lips. You preened at the word anyway, didn’t even bother to hide it.

“No one’s around.”

Your claw traces the blue green vein on her pale wrist. You don’t remember it coming out, these days it seemed they just did it on their own. She winces at the light scratch, but she lets you anyway. Just ogling, wide eyed, a little confused and a little turned on — which confused her all the more. She silently begged herself, get a grip.

She tore her hand away, hoisting her backpack off her back and swinging it around — damn near smacking you in the face with it. “Got you a present. Know you like those.” She rushes out, sounding a little out of breath like she’d been running. You liked it, liked that you did that to her. You’re smiling and she’s like, ignoring it — because she knows you know you flustered her and that’s not like Ellie. Not like calm and collected Ellie Williams.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.”

She digs around, pulling out a black rectangular VHS tape. Hard to come by, but always a delight seeing as you had a TV facing your bed in your room that refused CD discs and would only play grainy tapes. Ellie turned it in her hands, displaying the white tape across the front that read in someone unknowns Sharpie’d handwriting ‘Disney Aristocats’

“Think it’s about cats. Thought it would be funny.” She chuckles humbly, her ‘you hate it. fuck my life.’ thoughts kicking in as expected.

“We can watch it tonight!” You grin, gently taking it from her — clutching it proudly in your hands. She relaxes, shoulders unstiffening.

“Cool. Uh, yeah.” She nods, scratching her scalp which made the half-up-bun bob at the back of her head. She looks at you, and then looks around, and then back at you. Always back at you. “Alright. Let me go home and shower, you go set everything up and I’ll be round soon. Just… get outta here, before anyone sees you. Yeah?” Ellie exasperates, softly clapping two hands down on your shoulders and spinning you around, carefully nudging you to start walking away.

“M’kay. See you then, Els.”

“See ya, trouble.” Eye roll. Or maybe her eyes just rolled back at the sight of you swishing away in your little sundress. She’s not sure.

You were stood in front of the mirror when the door knocked. Your heart jumped — like you weren’t expecting Ellie to even come for some reason — but more so because you wasn’t sure you could get away with pyjamas this skimpy. You wanted to seduce her, sure. But this was just obscene. You wore, what essentially was just a long tank top. It fell mid thigh, flimsy and thin, showing every curve and dip and plumpness to you. You didn’t ever feel insecure around Ellie, no — but she might just call you a slut.

There was no time to change, so you ran and got the door, feigning confidence. Something was… different about the way she was stood there. Her hands were in her jean pockets awkwardly, like she didn’t know what to do with them. She’d actually cleaned up surprisingly, wearing her jeans and off white wifebeater. She somewhat looked like she was trying, but maybe that was all in your head. She didn’t look you in the eye either, thick brown lashes fluttered slightly as her eyes jumped down you in segments. Tits, then tummy, then hips, and then tail. The sight of it flapping about freely made her usher you inside quickly, always aware of the risks.

“Hey furball, y’ready to watch the movie?” She clears her throat, looking around your house like she’d never seen it before. Nervous? Something else?

“Told you not to call me that, doofus. But yes, follow me.” You giggle, and that’s all you seem to do around her these days if not purring — constant girlish giggles tumbling past your lips at the slightest joke. It bordered on pathetic.

She enters your room with a chuckle, like — the type that says ‘you’re so fucking cute.’ in Ellie’s voice, if you can imagine. You’d set the movie up, the screen buzzing with static playing old timey music with the start up screen for the movie awaiting the two of you. You’d rustled together every blanket and cushion you could get your hands on to create some kind of nest for the two of you to get all cuddled up in, and even more than that if your plans went how they should. It smells like you in the room, and Ellie wants to stand there and breathe in so hard her ribs crack from the expansion just to inhale you in completely. There’s no time for that, because you’re ushering her down on the bed. It’s almost horny just from the way you push her down, both hands on the warm skin of her freckled shoulders — your smooth and grabbable thighs between her legs. “Get comfy. But not too comfy. You always fall asleep when we watch movies.”

But how could she fall asleep when you’re dressed like that? In your natural form, wearing so little and showing so much. Her palms felt like little ants were inside her skin, running around like their tiny heads were on fire — or maybe it was just the hand static from not being able to touch your electric skin, to graze her coarseness over your smoothness and hear the sizzle of you up against fingertips. She wanted to hold you by the back of the head, take all your weight, all your thoughts, all of you.

But she was here to watch a movie, like a good best friend. And if that’s what you needed that’s what she’d be.

Turns out trying to seduce someone into scratching the itch that’s been aching you for weeks was harder than expected. How were you supposed to initiate this again? Hadn’t you thought about this time and time again, written about your dream scenarios of getting down and dirty with Ellie in the middle of your diary where no one would look if they’d found it and opened it up? You’d practised this, time and time again whilst you fall asleep — or whilst you’re fucking your hand, or whilst you’re staring at her profile idly whilst she sits and draws. God, how do you make the first move?

You’re staring at her whilst this rackets your brain, and you don’t realise how shamelessly you’re gawking at her until she side-eyes you, a fond little smirk daring to grace her features — it was audacious how cute she was. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

She’s practically handing you the opportunity. Your skin burns, body pressed to hers. Her arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you propped up laying back on your bed and it’s all set up perfectly. You could say a million things, you could push your weight up on your elbow and reach up and kiss the side of her rubied lips. You want to slot a hand right between your thighs there and then, relieve yourself, show her what she’s done to you. The mess she’s made out of you.

You squeak out a “Nope.” despite all of this.

You keep planning and rehearsing, not concentrating on the cat movie anymore, that’s for damn sure. Who was that old lady again? What was that cats name? Who cares. You’re staring, syncing your breath to hers. You think yourself to sleep, cheek pressed to her collar bone and soft snores. Completely unsuccessful, but there’s always next time right?

When you wake up a few hours later things feel different. You’re not touching Ellie anymore — Hell, she could be gone for all you know. But you’re feverish, throat dry and prickly. Your skin is broken out into goosebumps despite the heat, your thin tank top dress completely stuck to your skin and sheering from the pure amount of sweat drenching you. What the fuck? Were you sick? You’re panting, aching but not all over — only in your… you reach down, half awake and feel your slick coating your inner thighs, pooling your cunt. You felt feral.

Your eyes shoot open now, because — well, you can’t be doing that. Can’t be touching yourself like that with Ellie right there. The room is glowing blue, and you locate the TV screen causing it. The movie is gone, finished, and the screen is on a standby channel, quiet and staticy as it alights the bedroom. You turn to Ellie, because you need her suddenly, feeling like you’ll burst into tears or cum without touch, whichever comes first and you don’t know why. Any shyness has left you when you turn, spinning onto your hands and knees to touch her and shake her awake.

She’s laying on her front, her wifebeater having ridden up a little to display some of her back. Her arm hugs her pillow, and you don’t remember her being that sculpted — her arms, the ones that hold you when you hug and lift the heavy gates on patrol. You reach out and touch, and then grab, and then you shake her awake. “Els, Ellie please.”

It doesn’t take her much, she’s a light sleeper as mentioned before. She panics a little, flipping onto her back when she hears your trembling, whiney tone. What’s wrong? What happened? She’s reaching for you before her eyes are fully open.

“Hey, wha’samatter?” She croaks, one eye squinting shut in the bright blue glow. You go to tell her but you just whisper her name again, and again and you just need her to touch. Your hand grabs her arm again and she sits up fully, eyes widening a little as she wakes up properly. “Hey, talk t’me.”

“Look at me I’m—” You whine quietly, gesturing to your fevered appearance but you feel like you don’t have time to explain. You have no sense of patience or shame when you scooch closer, hands sliding over her shoulders so your foreheads are nearly touching. You look deranged and her cunt twitches.

“I need you Els. Somethin’ is going on with me and I just... I don’t know but I need you.” You beg. Jesus, she must be having some kind of wet dream.

“What? Uh— you — need me how?” She stutters, and she feels like a fuckin’ idiot because where was the suave flirting skills and pizazz she promised herself she’d have when the day came that you finally asked her to touch you? Let her have you? Her stomach clenches in cringe but she barely has time to overthink it because you’re moving impossibly closer. Your tits are practically spilling out and Ellie’s palms are sweating so much that it makes her insecure.

“Think somethings wrong with me, think I’m in—”

“You’re in heat.” Your words overlap and the two of you are whispering like there’s anyone else in the house that might overhear you. “Yeah, uh — shit man, I read about it in the book, you know? I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d be able to… whatever. What do you need? You need some water?” She’s rambling, needing to think carefully about her actions. She didn’t wanna take advantage of you when you were so vulnerable… was this like, weird? Not because you’re her best friend — no, this has been Ellie’s long game since you met — but because of the whole… feline thing.

“No I don’t need water Ellie, I just want you to help me. It… it aches.” You cry miserably, dropping your face into her shoulder defeatedly. She smells so good, just like her — like Ellie, but so much stronger than usual, your senses heightened by ten. It weakened you, feeling this out of control. You sniffle, rubbing your nose into her top and she rubs your drenched back — sympathetic.

“Is it because it’s like… a full moon or something?” She asks quietly and your brows furrow in annoyance, pushing yourself off her to be face to face again.

“M’not a werewolf Ellie.” You pout, and her lips twitch up into a nervous half chuckle, relaxing a little as she reaches up and smoothes her thumb between your brows. She sighs. And then laughs quietly.

“I know that.”

The two of you look at eachother for a moment, a silent conversation in the place of what should be confessing feelings. You feel like you take the first step when you glance at her lips, and she returns it by glancing at yours. The looks get more eager, and your bodies thrust closer, and you kiss.

You wished it was romantic, like you’d planned for months. But it’s needy and eager and you’re panting and whining within thirty seconds of having her tongue glide against yours. You’re lucky that Ellie is just eagerly going with it, happy to be there. You didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable or come across as forceful — but that didn’t seem to be the case at all, especially not when she let out a little groan at the feeling of of you sinking down pointed teeth into her bottom lip.

She topples back when you lean into her more and you’re clambering onto her lap, thighs shaking. You hear yourself before you realise you’re not kissing anymore, instead whispering “Please, please, please.” against her lips with your eyes screwed shut as you grind your soaked cunt onto her jean covered one. Where you’d usually make a comment about her sleeping in jeans, you pant — and she lets out an embarrassingly loud, wide eyed groan at the feeling. The zipper digs into both of your clits from either side.

“Fuck, fuck okay.” Her hands hover, and she doesn’t know where to grab first. This is happening, God this is really fucking happening. She blushes at the thought of her dorkishly pinching herself, just to check it’s not some super torturous vivid dream as her hands float before just pawing at your back, pulling you closer. Closer. Need her closer.

You shuffle back in the dark, hands fumbling for that zipper that you’d made warm and wet through your cotton underwear and tug it down so harshly you think it’s gonna come off. Buttons get unpopped, and fingers get tucked into a waistband before you’re yanking down. Ellie’s getting whiplash at the speed you’re moving, eyes flickering across your desperate and pained expression. Fat tears sit beneath your eyes as you mutter the word ‘closer’ again, an inkling of relief when you pull her jeans down to her mid thighs revealing soft black boxers.

You sit on her again, and — that’s it, that’s the friction you wanted. You can feel the raised, round mould of her pussy through the material and she gasps when you grind down onto her, forcing herself up onto her elbows, eyes rolling back a little, hands gripping your thigh creases as she stared down at your white underwear smushing itself into hers in the dim light. You’re whimpering (and so is she for a moment), hips jerking forward and Ellie genuinely doesn’t know what to do with you. It feels so fucking good, but she feels like she’s not stepping up the way she should. She wants to take control, make it all better for you like she always does.

“Fuck, okay babe. Chill, okay? Mhpm, I got you. Let me help you. S’what I’m here for right? Lay back.” She whispers, and leans forward again to ease you backwards and like she can’t help it, presses another kiss to your lips. You both freeze, because this time it has feeling behind it. That’s also what you needed, you needed her to take control. You relax for a moment, letting her roll you onto your back barely breaking apart the kiss.

When she pulls back, she strokes your hot cheek with her thumb — staring into each others eyes. Hers are still beautiful and vibrant even in the feverish blue light, glancing all across your face with concern and fondness etched into her features. “Kay?” she speaks, tapping her thumb to your cheek for a response and you nod, huffing out a breath. Okay. Try to calm down.

She kisses the corner of your mouth, which trails inevitably into the crook of your neck, her swollen lips sucking the slippery skin with a hum. Your fingers are bunched tightly into her shirt and her jeans are still below her ass from your dry humping craze. You take some deep breaths, and she hears you — outwardly appreciating your efforts to be calm. “Thats good, keep doin’ that.” She whispers when you push air out of your mouth shakily, and the praise makes your legs fall open limply.

“You gonna let me help you out, pretty girl?” She kisses the centre of your chest and you mewl, body vibrating with purs as you nod. “Tell me, please. I’ve uh, I’ve waited so long to hear it.” She sounds nervous in the sweetest way possible, making you even in your haze reach out to comfort her, pushing her auburn strands out her face as she looks up at you pleadingly.

“Please help me Ellie, want you to touch me.” Your voice is jumpy from your shudders, and it transfers to her — your eyes just catching the way she trembles a little from adrenaline in the dark.

“Alright baby, I got you.”

Hearing her call you baby like you’d always hoped she would makes you heave out a sigh, pushing your hips up into her body weight trying to relieve yourself somehow. She shushes you, distracted by the feel of you beneath her palms now as she drags them down your body. Her thumbs swipe across your hard nipples through the thin material of your pyjamas and you mewl again, arching into her hands.

“Gonna make you feel better, promise.” She whispers but it feels more like she’s talking about you and not to you so you try to keep quiet so that you can just observe. She’s sliding down the bed ‘til she’s practically half off it, pushing your dress up to press fond kisses to your tummy. It feels right, like it’s something she’s been doing for months despite it being her first time down there. It’s Ellie, your Ellie. You can’t think of anyone you’d be in better hands with.

“Never,” kiss. “Had,” kiss. “Someone down here,” kiss. “Before have you?” She drags her lips downwards this time, gripping the meat of your thighs and spreading them. You sigh out a whimper and shake your head, embarrassed by how needy you were for a flash of a second before getting lost in your lust again. She whispers out an ‘Th’sokay’ against your hipbone as she pushes your thighs open before pulling back — taking a look. Her tongue wets her lips at the sight before her, eyes adjusted into the low light now to see how you’ve completely soaked through your underwear — lips fat and wanting through the material. Ellie let’s out a breath she was unaware to be holding, forefinger stroking through your covered folds with a glance upwards to make sure it was all still okay.

“God damn.” She comments, and you know what she means — she probably didn’t know it was possible to get this wet.

“Take’m off, please.” You whimper, writhing your hips around growing impatient once more and she nods frantically, peeling the cotton down your body making you hide your face in your arm when your centre clings to the fabric.

“So ready, huh.” She whispers, hot breath fanning over your bare cunt now. She breathes out a barely audible chuckle as she strokes the side of her finger across the small curled tuft of pubic hair that sat on your skin.

“Yeah, b—been ready for you Els. Wanted this for so l—ong.” You can’t stop trembling, and perhaps it was your feverish chills or the fact you were so excited to finally have your best friend in the way you’d wanted her.

“Yeah?” She cooes, but she’s barely listening — both thumbs pushing the fat of your lips outward, spreading you for her viewing pleasure. “Been hiding all this from me? But it’s so pretty…”

You sniffle, and she takes that as her sign to dive straight in — tongue flattening against your exposed clit and flicking upwards before dragging her lips down through your quantity of arousal. You moan, barely able to hear yourself through the loud purs emitting from you and buck your hips against her face.

You knew Ellie had experience, from the gutwrenching stories she’d tell you about her escapades with her ex girlfriend Cat (Funnily enough, actually her name — a foreshadowing all things considered.) But you’d figured it was just fooling around behind the barn, or maybe when Joel wasn’t home as the two of them used to share a residence. You didn’t expect her to be so… ravenous. If you knew that the girl sat beside you for so long could eat like this, you might have felt more inclined to approach her for help a little sooner.

The room was filled with obscene sounds, the sound of Ellie’s mouth ministrations which can only be compared to noise that belonged to stirring buttery pasta — mixed with her low moans against you because apparently you tasted that good. This was also mixed with, but not overshadowed by your desperate cries and purs as you pull her head further down into your crotch, panting up against the ceiling praying for release.

You hear yourself cry for “More!” and as if the thought had already sprouted for your best friend, her middle finger immediately pressed in against your hole — applying pressure and massaging that warm spot — a challenge for it not to slip right in given how wet you were for her.

“Can give you more. Lemme in, babe.” She murmurs against you when she finally sinks it in, sucking on your clit as means to get you to loosen up around her — which in hindsight wasn’t her most clear-minded idea as you only clenched harder. Ellie, much to your dismay removes her mouth for a moment to sit up on her elbow a little higher. She blows over your clit, smacking a wet kiss to it before looking up at you seriously — finger frozen only a little way in. Her free hand comes up, wide palm stroking across your lower stomach soothingly. “Gotta relax. Don’t wanna hurt you and you’re tight, babe. Relax.”

This side of Ellie made it difficult to not challenge this by clenching even harder. You could tell there was still an element of nerves to her, not wanting to fuck it up — but it just came so naturally to her to look after you. You push a shaky breath out through your mouth in a small ‘o’ shape, eager to make her proud again like before and focus on unclenching, her thumb on the connecting hand softly stroking your clit up and down to assumably aid you in this. “Good job, that’s it.”

She smiles when she returns her mouth to your folds, absolutely ecstatic to get back in there. You would have giggled at this if you weren’t so worked up, placing all your concentration into keeping loose for her and letting her press her finger up into a delicate spot you hadn’t discovered before. You jerk, briefly clenching again as her gaze snaps up to you— free hand coming back to smooth down your hip and ass, calming you. “C’mon babe, this is gonna get y’there. Help me out here.” She whispers and you try for her again, letting her press up into that toe curling devastating place. The bed rocks with movement, the same feeling you get when you’re half awake in the back of a moving car — and you glance down to realise it’s Ellie, and she’s fucking humping the bed, grunting against your pussy with her nose smushed to your clit. You feel the tears welling, and something turning like cogs in your stomach. Your orgasm approaches, but it’s only at the precipice of your cunt— the ache reaching much deeper and you panic at the idea of being left unsatisfied despite your deep lust, Ellie’s touches only making you ache more.

“Els, Ellie w—wait I’m gonna, let — wait I can’t it’s not — s’not deep enough I need more, need more it’s too —” You’re suddenly crying out, pushing yourself up with a look of absolute devastation on your face which is so sobering that she pulls her fingers out of you completely — pushing her self up at crazy speeds to meet you half way and cup your face.

“Babe, you’re panicking. Just talk to me, tell me what you need I — I can give it to you. Breathe.” She whispers, lips brushing your own as she attempts to comfort you, swiping away the tears leaking down your cheeks still. Your lip curls over, puffing out and wobbling as you suck in a quivering breath.

“More— just need to be… fucked, need you to fuck me, need it deeper.” You wail and she shushes you again, her slender hand coming back down to just cup your cunt in a way that made you dizzy, an attempt for her to comfort you and hold you in a way that you needed. Your eyes squeeze shut and tears moisten your lashes, feeling guilty for asking for such things, unsure if she can really give it to you. You didn’t want her to feel bad.

Ellie bites her lip in thought and tastes you. She did have that one thing… though she hadn’t actually used it before. It was a harness, a thick purple dildo lodged into the centre of it — stashed in a shoebox and shoved under her bed with crimson cheeks and clammy hands. She’d found it on patrol, and figured it could be useful one day maybe — a vision of you taking her with an arched back and her hips slamming against your plush ass making her wince and cup her cunt through her jeans in that very sex store. She had something that could help, and she had to push her pride aside to offer.

“Got something I can fuck you with. It’s… literally for that purpose but uh, it’s back at my place.” When she see’s the way your eyes light up with hope she’s jumping up, yanking her jeans up back around her waist, fumbling to do up her zipper as she continues to stare at you for permission. “I can run, be back in literally five minutes — do you want it babe? I’ll be so fucking fast you won’t even know I’m gone.” She’s not sure who’s begging who anymore, because since handed the opportunity Ellie has become obsessed with the idea of finally getting to fuck you good and proper.

“Yes j—just be fast, Ellie please be fast.” You mewl weakly, dropping back against the bed. She gives you a once over as she stumbles for her shoes, pulling her Converse on at a speed you didn’t think was possible and roughly tying laces. She’s out the door before you know it, leaving you to your own devices.

It feels like hours when she’s gone and you slip further into that dream-like, hazy space you’ve been fighting since she’d laid hands on you. Without her touch, the ache began to settle deep into your centre again — skin on fire and sensitive to the touch. You felt like you were being burned from the inside out without her there, rolling around on your sheets attempting to find comfort and coming up unsuccessful. The arch in your back only opened your cunt wider to the balmy air, and your nipples grew sore quickly from rubbing up against your bedsheet. A bead of sweat rolls between your tits.

Ellie’s feet hurt from the speed her Converse would slap the concrete of Jackson’s town— sprinting her way through the 4AM streets on a mission to bring you the equipment to satisfy your urges. Her heart thunders when she reaches her place, dropping her keys and swearing to herself as she fumbled to get the door open. She doesn’t bother closing it behind her when she runs inside, wood creaking beneath her heavy steps to sliding down on her knees beside her bed, reaching her hand along the dusty floor to find that shoe box. She finds it, muttering a borderline deranged ‘There you are’ before sliding it out, popping it open just to check it’s still there before slamming the lid back on and tucking the box under her arm, heading back to you.

You know she’s back because through your daze you hear the door shut and her loud high-pitched grunt of exertion, the image of her doubling over in your hallway to catch her breath coming to you almost like a prophetic vision. The ache worsens as her footsteps draw closer, her voice strained and out of breath as she calls out to you. “I almost — Fuck, almost ran into Jesse on the way to his early patrol. Saw him and, had to take a detour behind someone’s house cos’ he would have asked what was in the box and like — I can’t just get it out and show him…” Her panted words trail off when she re enters the bedroom, eyes falling on your desperate state once more.

It was a blow to her heart, seeing you so worked up. You were completely naked now in just your collar, brow slick with sweat and body practically glowing. Your tail curls around your thigh self soothingly, ears pointed high and alert. Your back arches painfully as you drag your hands down your thighs. You sniffle, defeated.

“Can’t even touch myself n’make it better cos my claws won’t go back in.” You shake, dragging your hands down your thighs desperately. Your sharp claws catch the delicate skin leaving long thin marks but you don’t even seem to notice. Ellie’s brows furrow and she rushes to you, sitting beside you on the bed and taking your hand in hers, looking at your clawed fingertips.

“Hey, don’t… don’t do that. M’here now. Can look after you yeah? Let me just…” She struggles for the box and pulls out the clattering harness and toy. You’re distracted for a moment as you watch, intrigued by the contraption that she’s pulling up her jeans and fastening at her hips. When she’s done, a purple plastic cock stands proud in the centre of her crotch, and your mouth practically waters.

It was animalistic, truly — and a little embarrassing the way you grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed. She even had the nerve to stumble a little bit, her back bouncing against the sheets as she scrambled to get comfortable and you crawled onto her lap. You press your lips to hers again like she’s your life line, letting out a muffled moan because you missed her. She’d been gone for five minutes and you’d missed her. You knew she’d tease you for that if it were any other time, but this time was like no other. She groans against you too, her hand cupping up to cup the back of your head and hold you there. You couldn’t get enough of eachother, all this waiting was finally paying off.

Your thighs shake around her as you wrap your hand around the dildo, sitting back as you can rub it up and down your slick a few times, collecting it’s juice. Ellie sits up a little, watching with wide eyes. “Jesus. Y’look so fuckin’ pretty.”

Her words send a surge of need through you again and you push the fat tip against your hole, adjusting so you can sit straight down on it. She winces for you, hands hovering above your hips. “Careful you haven’t taken anything bigger than my fingers before it’s gonna—”

You groan, melting into her as you sink down all the way. She’s right, it does hurt — and you’re frozen, laying against her shoulder hiccuping and quietly sobbing at the stretch. It’s way too much, but — it scratches the itch. Dulls the ache inside. You could power through this.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, hands slowly coming down on your back to rub soothing circles on your clammy skin. “Hey.” She leans back a little, tilting her head trying to get a look at you. “Look at me, baby.”

You do, because how could you not — blinking big wet, eyes at her in the dark. She wipes away some tears with her knuckle, brows frowned and concerned. “You gotta be careful. Okay? I don’t… I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t.” She admits, and it seems to carry more meaning than what she’s letting off in the moment. Your doe eyes well again, fist curling in her wifebeater and then loosening as you try and calm your jerky breaths. She slowly reaches down until the pads of her fingers meet your clit, engorged and pushed out from the way your cunt is stretched open around her. She rubs it in light circles, softly — making you preen into her touch. The pain of the stretch lessens and you can’t help but grind down.

With each grind, you become more frenzied — picking up the pace as you chase the feeling you’d been after. You’re moaning over the sound of your pussy squelching around her and all she can do is grab onto your ass and help you, eyes all over you. “Fffffuck, babe — look at you, takin’ it so well. Who taught you how to fuck like this huh? Thought I was your first?” She chuckles, breathless from your incessant bouncing and grinding.

“You are, Els — m—my first and my only, don’t wanna fuck anyone else ever again.” You whine, so loudly it can probably be heard from outside but who cares — not when she’s got you like this. This worked up and needy for her. It was something from her wildest dreams.

“Yeah? Wanna be my girl?” She grunts, your grinding aiding the harness in hitting her clit just right with each movement. With all this time spent helping you, Ellie hadn’t realised how pent up she was.

“Yes, m’your girl Ellie, m’your girl you — you own me!” You admit, and it seems things go a little quiet at the confession. You clench hard, burrowing into her shoulder as she processes the words. Ellie hears an incoherent ‘More’ again, and her body goes on autopilot — feet sliding up to press flat against the bed. She holds you still, arm across your lower back and pins you to her whilst she fucks up into you fast. She grunts at the feeling, and you cry. With each bounce she forces out of you, your bell collar jingles humiliatingly.

Ellie can’t seem to keep her hands in one place, leaving your back to feel the way your tits jump with each movement caging them under her hands. “Yeah, baby? Like that?” She cooes and feels you nod frantically into her, nothing but mewls and moans able to leave you. You’re gushing over her strap, walls spasming trying to suck her back in each time she draws back — Ellie feels like she can feel it herself.

“Y’own me. M’all yours forever Els.” You babble like you’re trying to keep yourself awake, alive, conscious whilst Ellie fucks up into you like it’s the last chance she’ll ever get.

“Yeah? This all mine, sweet girl?” She cooes, and finally you feel it — the hint of a knot in your stomach, the orgasm you’ve been chasing — one that resides deep inside you, the ache that felt like it could kill you, soon to be soothed by Ellie herself.

“Yes! Yes! Mphm, g’nna cum on your dick!”

Her dick. She’d never thought of it like that before. The words leaving your mouth sparked something in her, and suddenly she was the feral one. Her jaw clenches, strong hands pushing and tugging and rolling you onto your back. You gasp at the feeling of her cock sliding right out to the tip at the jostling, tits bouncing as you lay back on the bed. You looked vulgar and improper and so far from your innocent self, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel that maybe this was all on her. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone into heat if the sexual tension between you wasn’t so strong. What had she done to her sweet best friend?

You stare up at her with doe eyes, and she stares back for a moment — lips parted, jaw squared and eyes dark. This was the Ellie you’d needed.

Her hands slide up the backs of your thighs and push your knees up to your chest, pressing her strap deep inside of you. Her breathing is erratic, hair falling into her face as she thrusts in and out at a punishing pace, the tip of her cock nudging your cervix just right. It’s almost too much to take and you turn your head with a weak mewl, sound punched out of your lungs. She doesn’t let you, grabbing you by the jaw so that fucked out your eyes stayed on her own glossy ones.

“Yeah that’s right, look at me. Stay right here with me.”

“C—can’t.”

“You can. Be good, c’mon, j’st keep taking it, angel.” She moans and your toes curl. Needing her as close as humanely possible, your hand curled around the back of her head tugging her to your lips. You feel her arm pressed between the two of you, giving herself just enough space to toy with your clit as she groaned against your mouth.

You detached, unable to keep up with the kissing as you wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck — and she was okay with that, focusing on her thrusting to get you where you needed. You squeeze extra hard with a pained mewl, every one of your moans met with a cooed ‘Yeah?’ or ‘That right?’ until you were actually finally cumming.

You’re not aware of yourself when you actually do, feeling like water was being thrown over the fire that was your body all whilst igniting another at the same time. The sounds coming from you were…a lot. Purs and squeals and moans and squelching, nothing left to do but to let Ellie ride it out for you, telling you how good you are for letting go. You hear her wince and it brings you back a little, realising you’d been scraping your fangs along Ellie’s bare shoulder — drawing thick beads of blood.

You pant, and she stares down at you with a clenched jaw as you calm your self, recuperating after that Earth shattering orgasm given by your best f— you couldn’t surely still be calling her that right? After all that?

Your eyes focus, puffy lips smeared slightly with the blood you’d drawn from Ellie’s skin and you heave out a whispered apology, trying to blink back your concentration which was proven difficult with her strap still seated deep inside you the way it was.

“S—orry, got carried away I didn’t mean to.”

She goes to shrug, but the air is then punched out of her lungs as you lean forward a little, looking at her with pensive, wide submissive eyes before flattening your tongue against the wound and cleaning it up. She watches, still not having said a word before she’s gently grabbing your shoulders and pushing you to lay flat again. Her hips shift, a slow experimental grind rolling out from her hips as she watches you. Your brows furrow, jaw gaping at the sensitivity as you grab at her strong arms in a slight panic. She takes your hands and pins them down in a soft and loving way.

“What’you doin’ Els?” You sigh out almost in one breath, and that’s when she leans down and presses soft kisses to your cheek once more, her hair tickling your nose, wanting you to feel the love radiating off her.

“Makin’ sure it’s all out your system. You’ll let me do that, yeah?” She mutters, still breathless and you whine in response with a vicious nod. “Good girl.”

Your thighs, which you hadn’t realised had tightened around her hips loosened and fell open, your tail pushing out from under you to absentmindedly tickle your own skin. Maybe it was for comfort, self soothing you through the pleasurable pain of your overstimulation.

Ellie picked up her pace a little, her movements different from before— long and lengthy rolls of her hips making sure to graze every wall inside of you. “How’s that? That make you feel good?” It’s an earnest and honest question, genuinely wanting to know but you tip your head back, controlling everything in you not to hurt her when you dig her claws into the fat beneath her ass now — trying to pull her deeper inside since she’d let your arms out of her pin.

“Feels so good, Ellie. Y’look after me so well.” You whimper, one hand reaching up to push her hair out of her face and she blinks at you a little off guard— preening at the praise a little. “My strong, clever Ellie. Always doin’ what’s right f’me.” You whine, and it seems the praising is turning the both of you on as her brows knit, lips parting just a little as she grinds harder in a way that rubs her good down below.

“Okay, okay fuck.” She chuckles when she catches herself, which only makes you bite your lip and spread yourself wider for her. The angle hits your gummy insides yet again in a way that you just couldn’t handle and your legs are jerking, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out another soft orgasm — letting her pleasure herself inside of you.

She keeps going, and keeps going, and keeps fucking going until you’re all fucked out — Ellie’s boxers soaked and the strap shiny all over from your releases. The sun is starting to come up through the blinds making Ellie squint tiredly when she rolls you over back on top of her, your thighs splayed either side of her body — plastic dick still burrowed inside of you.

She lets out a sigh of exertion and a gentle ‘Alright’ when she tries to carefully lift her hips, trying to get a good grip on the base of the dildo so she could pull it out of you but you whine, clenching around it selfishly as you smush your cheek against her — fucked out and senseless, already half asleep. “J’st keep it… keep it inside, please. Just for a little while.”

The sentence makes her heart tighten a little and she just nods, letting herself fall back and relax into the soft pillows more, hand opting to instead lazily trail up and down your back until the movements were halting with her journey into sleep— drifting off to the visions of your beautiful face, and the memory of your kisses against her lips.

She’ll ask you out officially tomorrow. For now, she could just enjoy the peace that you brought her.

#ellie williams au #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #hybridkitty!reader

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ireadwithmyears · 11 months

Text

Absent mindedly making me want you

Pairing: Ellie Williams / female reader

Word count : 12 K 💀 I swear it’s worth it I just really wanted a well rounded story even if this is just a one shot

Summary :

Due to her first-hand experience when it comes to drowning, Ellie takes it upon herself to teach you how to swim. Something that neither of you had anticipated, however, was how intimate this endeavour would be, resulting in a day filled with unresolved sexual tension, that, unsurprisingly and inevitably comes to ahead

Tags/warnings : established relationship, soo much sexual tension, smut (18+, MDNI), porn with minor plot, dom/sub undertones, soft dom Ellie, submissive reader, inexperienced reader (first time), light hair pulling, unsafe lesbian sex, fingering, oral (F receiving), face sitting, lots of dirty talk(bc you cannot convince me that Ellie doesn’t have an absolutely filthy mouth), praise kink, overstimulation, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping (just once), aftercare, fluff, no use of Y/N

“I’m sorry, wait, hold on. You’re telling me you’ve never learned how to swim?”

The settlement of Jackson has been dealing with, hopefully, the last of its winter storms for the year. Spring had crept its way around the corner, shining its promisingly hopeful rays of warm sunlight for a few, blissfully beautiful, but in the end, all two short days

But then, in what must be mother nature’s idea of a harmless joke, it was crudely snatched away and replaced with icy winds that seemed to settle within your very core, leaving you shivering long after you went inside to get warm. Wyoming had been hit with a blizzard that had caught everyone so off guard, that Jackson was ill-equipped and unprepared to handle it, leaving most of the community snowed in; workloads being much reduced and limited to essential services for the time being, until the snow abated.

This is how you and a group of friends found yourselves in Jesse’s living room, cradling mugs of hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that seeped into your fingertips, and making a blanket fort as if you were still school children at a sleepover. The snowy days and lack of work seemed to bring out a childish side to everyone, which is how you found yourself engaged in a game of never have I ever, sitting in a tight circle with your friends and girlfriend who, up until a few seconds ago, had been absent mindedly playing with your hair, your head resting against her shoulder, where you had been quite content to stay.

But, she had now pulled back, looking at you with her eyebrows raised, lips quirked down quizzically, as if in thought. You look around at your friends, taking note of everyone else who’s never learned. You’re relieved to find that you’re not alone in this. As expected, the Jackson old-timers, the few of you who have been settled here almost your whole lives, or at least, as long as you could remember, had never encountered an environment that required the ability to swim.

“Nope, it’s never been necessary.” You shrug.

She tilts her head, thinking, a few wisps of auburn hair escaping her ponytail as she regards you, teeth lightly grazing the bottom of her lip as she appears to be calculating an idea in her mind.

“As soon as it gets warm enough, I’m taking you out, and I'm gonna teach you. Joel taught me because he said that I would never know when it was a skill that would become necessary for me to have until it’s too late,” she says, nodding to herself decisively.

“Ah, I see your dad‘s passed off his overprotectiveness onto you,” you smirk, rolling your eyes fondly.

She hits you with a pillow for that.

“Quiet, you,” she says in mock offense.

She pokes your belly lightly and you instinctively jump back with a surprised squeal. You hear the quiet amusement of your friends, Jesse barely containing a snort as he watches. You’re about to utter a retort when she reaches out, pulling you against her, settling you on her lap, where you happily go.

When she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, hand settling at the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps to form beneath their eager caresses, any kind of argument dies on your lips. Resistance melts as if it hadn’t been there in the first place, and all thoughts scatter like butterflies, only landing on the one thing that you care to focus on.

It’s her, with her teasing lips and wandering hands, that explore and touch you as if she wants to know you, to memorize you, like you’re her well-kept and cherished secret. She is the only thing that surrounds your mind, the only one who holds your attention so easily, and it takes you a moment to shake yourself free of this haze. It’s strange, and euphoric, a kind of feeling that you’ve never felt before, and you find that you like it – instantly craving more the second that her lips leave yours.

She's kissed you plenty of times before, and though it’s always been an enjoyable experience for you, it’s never felt like that. You decide to file that information away for now; you’ll sort out whatever the fuck these new feelings are later.

When you do come back to yourself, your head nestled against her shoulder, her arms wrapped around you as she looks down at you with warm, soft eyes, you think, yeah, you’ll let her teach you how to swim. You’ll let her do whatever she goddamn pleases, as long as it means that she’ll keep kissing you like that, and bringing out those good kind of butterflies that flutter in your stomach whenever she’s close to you.

To your surprise, Ellie makes good on her promise at the earliest opportunity.

In your experience, life is full of making plans and dreams that, more often than not, fall through. Even here, even in Jackson, where the walls are fortified and everyone is protected, the act of planning future endeavours is a luxury.

Spring finally comes , for real this time, with its customary blend of warmer weather that makes everyone instinctively turn their faces towards the sun, tentatively brushing its heat against their skin. And then, in complete juxtaposition, rain that starts in a slight drizzle that quickly descends into a downpour that sends those who’d ventured outside to appreciate the sunlight running back inside, scrambling to find cover, while quietly grumbling that they wish it was summer already, if only so that they could be freed from this topsy-turvy weather.

Humans are funny like that, you suppose. Never fully able to live in the moment, always wishing for the next season the second spring reveals its more wild side. They forget that the scorching heat of summer will have them complaining and wishing for autumn to come faster in a few months.

Nonetheless, it’s early summer, and you find yourself riding astride Ellie’s mare, Hazel, whose step is light and carefree, tale gently swishing in the warm breeze as you make your way to a clearing with a lake, a few miles out from Jackson’s gates. You’ve taken up the rear position, head resting against your girlfriend's back, arms wrapped around her waist.

From her position, she can’t see the expression on your face, the way you worry. Your bottom lip is between your teeth until it starts to bleed, because quite honestly, you’re nervous. Your instinct is to hide your feelings from her, because it feels silly. “A tough girl like you all freaked out over a little water?” You can almost hear her snark in your head. Logically, you know she wouldn’t say that, not to you, at least. But you can’t help but wonder if she’d think it.

You also know, however, that the minute you’re off this horse and she turns to look at you, she’ll read right through any bullshit or lies you come up with in an instant. Ellie’s just that kind of person; able to read right through people without them even having to say a word. So, as the bird chatter accompanies the beat of Hazel’s hooves against the ground, you speak, softly, tentatively, half-wishing that she won’t hear, almost hoping that your words will be carried off in the slight breeze that ruffles the braid against your back, delicately freeing strands of your hair.

“You know, I’m actually kinda fucking scared to do this,” you figure if you’re going to admit this, it’s just best to rip the Band-Aid off.

She holds the reins one-handed as her other comes to squeeze your wrist gently.

“Can you tell me why?”

You sigh, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you rest your chin against her shoulder. She’s so warm and steady, confident and self-assured in a way that you couldn’t even attempt to replicate.

She senses your unease, moving her thumb beneath the thin material of your sweater, stroking against the skin of your inner wrist. She lets it rest at the point where she feels your pulse lightly fluttering beneath her.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, encouraging, “Talk to me, Sweetheart, you’ve got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Her thumb resumes its movement, stroking back-and-forth along the inside of your wrist, soothing away the knot that’s begun to tie itself in your stomach.

“It’s stupid, I know. It’s just, I’m scared that I’m gonna drown, or something dumb like that,” you roll your eyes, feeling a little bit pathetic.

“It’s not stupid,” you’re not surprised that she’s come to your defence so quickly, but the conviction in her voice gives you pause.

She continues, “I almost drowned, once. Well, I guess it wasn’t almost, I did drown, though I don’t remember the details. It was before Joel had taught me how to swim, probably what made him decide that he had to. But, when he did, it took me the longest time to get over my fear. Every time I so much as touched the water, my mind would bring me back to that moment where I thought I was about to die.”

Her voice is sheepish, nonchalant, but you scoot closer to her on the saddle nonetheless, wrapping your arms just a little tighter around her waist.

“My point is, if you would have seen me when I was fourteen, the way Joel would have to coax me into the water bit by bit, you wouldn’t believe I’m the same person now. Now, I can be assured that whenever I go into the water, nothing’s going to happen to me that I can’t handle.”

She takes your hand in hers, and her voice is completely serious when she speaks now.

“Baby, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, right?”

In spite of your nerves, you know the answer to this question immediately. It’s not even a question, really, you know without even having to think about it that she’ll keep you safe, protect you with her life if necessary, and you nod aggressively, even before she finishes speaking.

“I know, Elles.”

She gives your hand a squeeze.

“Good, because if my 14-year-old freshly traumatized from actually drowning ass can learn how to swim, I am fully confident in your abilities.”

Hazel trots on, and for the first time since you headed out today, you feel a genuine smile pulling the corners of your lips upward, your laughter accompanying the birdsong as you ride on.

“That’s it, just lean back into me, I gotcha.”

She’s teaching you how to float on your back, first, and as you lean against her and lower yourself into the water, you swear you feel the peak of one of her nipples, hardened from the cold, poking through the flimsy material of her tank top, brushing against your back as you submerge yourself. You have to fight to keep your expression neutral, trying not to betray anything on your face. If she asks why you’re blushing, you’ll just say it’s because of the heat.

Her hand holds you up, pressing into the small of your back as she instructs you, and it’s nice, the heat that radiates from the warmth of her skin. You feel it through your tank top, and maybe it’s because the water is cold and it’s heightening all of your senses, or maybe it’s because you’re in a pair of underwear and a tank top, feeling very exposed to your girlfriend in a way that you’ve never been with anyone, but you’re getting goosebumps, and you know for a fact that it has nothing to do with you being cold.

You hope to yourself that the feeling of having her hands on you will get easier throughout the day, because for some inexplicable reason, the feeling of her hand pressing against you like this is making it hard to focus on what she’s actually saying.

You quickly discover that it does not get easier as the day goes on.

It actually gets so much fucking harder to bear as the sun begins to sail higher in the sky.

When she’s about to teach you how to kick, her hands ghost over your hips, making you jump.

“Sorry, hun, I should’ve asked,” she apologizes softly.

You can’t bring yourself to look at her, and have to temper your voice to not sound eager as you respond. “No, you’re good, go ahead, I'm just cold, that’s all.”

When her hands caress your sides before settling against your hips, your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, trying to contain the gasp that wants to escape.

Is she truly that fucking unaware of what she’s doing to you?

The skin where her fingers had trailed over tingles, and you have to give your head a slight shake to clear it, because that touch, regardless of how innocently meant it might’ve been to her, suddenly makes you want to get on your knees and beg her to touch you like that again.

You want more.

You learn the mechanics of how to propel yourself through the water, arms and legs separately. When it comes time to put the two together, Ellie eases you onto your stomach. The water is still shallow, your toes can still touch the ground. This was as deep as you’d be going today, she had told you, making you feel relieved.

“I’m just gonna put a hand on your stomach to hold you up. You’re still gonna have my help, I’m right here,” you’re stomach muscles tense when her hand lightly presses against it. She must think you’re nervous, because she gently strokes her thumb up and down between your rib cage, in a way that should be reassuring, but in reality, makes heat radiate from between your legs. You’re grateful that she can’t see your face, because the small pool of wetness that blossoms against your panties is undeniable now, and it makes your cheeks heat.

Okay, so you have to admit it now. You’re horny. In spite of the fact that you’ve never had sex and you haven’t been ready to take that step before today, as you slowly move through the water, feeling her hand pressing against your stomach, so close but so, so far from where you want her to be, you know that you want her, in a way that you’ve never wanted anyone before.

“At a girl, just like that,” she says encouragingly, and you swear you can feel your thigh muscles clenching involuntarily, thoughts drifting to a very different scenario in which she’d utter those words.

It’s late afternoon, the sun is high in the sky, warming your shoulders as you stand in the water. You’ve long ago adjusted to its cool, murky depths, and you’re not on edge anymore.

At least you weren’t, until Ellie suggests that to finish off the day, you try moving a little bit on your own. Your eyebrows raise, in obvious alarm, and her hands settle on your shoulders, quick to reassure you.

“You won’t have to go far, I’ll be right in front of you, I promise, all you need to do is just keep coming towards me.”

You tilt your head, considering. Yes, you’ve grown accustomed to the water, but whenever you’ve been moving, she’s always had a hold on you, and you felt safe, knowing that there wasn’t even a chance that you would go under.

Seeing your still evident hesitation, Ellie steps closer, a hand grazing against your waist as she presses her lips to your forehead briefly, before she speaks, her voice low and teasing against your ear.

“Can you do it for me?” She says softly. Her fingers are tracing slow, enticing circles over your waist, soothing you, but making you feel all worked up at the same time.

She’s so close that you can feel her lips brush against your ear when she speaks, and you can’t hide the shiver that runs down your spine. You’ve lost the ability to form coherent thought, for the moment, and you have to mentally kick yourself to push your mind back into any semblance of reality. God, if she asks you like that, you’ll do anything.

You don’t say that, though. You only nod meekly, not trusting your voice to be controlled when you speak.

When her hand gives your hip an appreciative squeeze, you feel her breath ghost against the curve of your neck as she speaks. “Good girl,” she practically purrs, a quiet, low hum against your ear that makes your knees buckle so hard that you have to dig your feet into the sand beneath you so that you don’t faceplant into the water.

When she pulls back, taking slow, tentative steps away from you, she knows that you’re watching her every move. She can feel your eyes burning into her, the further she moves away, nerves making you fidget with the hem of your top. When she’s several metres away, she reaches out a hand, beckoning.

“Okay, c’mere, Baby Girl.”

Her voice is low, persuasive, encouraging you forward. But it still takes you a solid 30 seconds of anxiously staring at her before you actually begin to move. She stands, arms folded, patiently waiting for you to give in, because she knows that sooner or later, you will.

She’s not that far away, not really. She still would easily be able to reach her arms out, steadying you if somehow, even in this shallow water, you managed to bring yourself under. Still, when you kick back, and you no longer feel the assurance of the soft sand against your feet, or Ellie‘s arm wrapped securely around your stomach to hold you up, you freeze. She notices instantly, and her voice is quick to call you back, bringing your racing heart back down with a few, gentle words.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

You swim forward, it’s unsure and hesitant, but at least you’re moving. You can’t always keep your eyes on her, but when your head is lowered to the water, you can always hear her voice, which she uses to get you to keep going.

“That’s it, almost there.”

She eggs you on, making your limbs instinctively move faster, cutting through the water with an almost desperate urge to get to her. You’re reaching for her, arms ready to wrap around her waist when she meets you halfway, scooping you up into her arms.

“That’s my girl,” she whispers against your lips, cradling the back of your head as she pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you can’t help the small sigh that she elicits from you as she lowers her head to kiss you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, soft caress, searing as her touch sets your skin alight with heat. Instinctively, only half aware of what you’re doing, your legs wrap around her waist, desperately pulling yourself against her with a sudden need that is too strong to be contained.

When her hand, tangled in your hair, gently pulls, forcing your head back as she deepens the kiss, your mouth falling open as her tongue teases past your lips, you are unable to hold back the little moan that escapes you, scalp tingling at the sensation of her fingers, curled against strands of your wet hair, holding tight, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

She’s so close, you realize. Your legs wrapped around her like this, your heat pressed so near to hers. It’s enough to send your thoughts reeling. Every nerve ending in your body is alive with want and need.

Her hand makes a slow path, warm, delicate fingers journeying from your waist all the way up to the peak of your breast, leaving a trail of goosebumps to form in their wake. Her hand rests against you, leaving you warm and wanting, and just when you think that you can’t handle any more, she moves her thumb in a slow, deliberate caress over your perked, hardened nipple, which, at this point, your tank top, with its thin, soaked through material that clings to your every curve, leaves little up to her imagination. She can see you, she can see all of you. Your breath shutters, the smallest sound of want, of need, of desperation escaping your throat in a choked, pleading moan that has your back arching.

And that’s when Hazel makes her displeasure and boredom known, letting out a loud, displeased nay of indignation as she stamps her hooves against the ground.

The noise is so sudden, so out of the blue, disrupting the sounds of the water gently lapping around you, and the ambiance of nature that you’ve grown quite accustomed to hearing over the past few hours, that it makes you both jump. You startle so hard that you nearly fall into the waters below, jolting back as your head whips around to discover the source of the noise. Ellie’s arms are secure, though, you feel her adjusting her hold on you, wrapping them around you tighter. She too frantically searches the area around you for signs of trouble.

When you realize that you’re in no imminent danger, and that it’s just Hazel being her typical, dramatic self, you both look at each other, and simultaneously, slow smiles creep across your faces. She can feel you begin to shake with laughter. All the adrenaline leaves your body in a relieved, sudden rush that escapes with the quiet, barely contained snort that you desperately try to hold back. After that, it’s over. Ellie’s face buries against your hair as you both begin to laugh uncontrollably.

You feel her breathy, relieved sigh ruffle your hair. “We should probably go see what her problem is – knowing Hazel, a mosquito probably landed on her and she freaked the fuck out. God, that horse is such a drama queen.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s an underlying affection that she can’t keep out of her voice, even if she tries.

“Probably saw us kissing and was offended. Maybe she’s homophobic,” you quip, chuckling.

Ellie gasps in mock horror. “I practically raised that horse, there’s no fucking way,” you both laugh as she begins to move towards the shore, you cradled against her with your head on her shoulder.

Riding back to Jackson when you’re extremely sexually worked up, it turns out, is no fun.

Your girlfriend, as much as you love her, is doing nothing to help the situation.

In general, Ellie prefers to ride horses that are the most chaotic, and that carry attitudes that make them almost borderline untrainable. She says it’s because she can empathize with them, she listens to them in a way that no one else does.

You think, privately, that it’s because it scares the shit out of Joel. He lives in constant fear that Hazel is going to throw Ellie off, sending his already accident prone daughter home with a broken leg and a concussion. You swear, Ellie enjoys getting a rise out of him, making his heart race with all of the reckless shit that she does.

Hazel has been sitting still for too long, and is now thoroughly enjoying the freedom of being able to trot about; she tries to take advantage of it regardless of the cargo on her back, making for a bumpy ride.

You’re riding in front, this time, and every time you hit an unavoidable bump, Ellie rests her hands on your hips. She claims that she’s doing it to keep you steady, make sure that you don’t fall off the horse. but, you know better. You know an ulterior motive when you see one. The way that her hands linger, fingers slowly teasing At the edge of your still damp top, drawing slow, light circles against the exposed skin she finds beneath, suggesting that she has other plans in mind. It makes you shiver.

“You cold, baby?” Her voice is low against your ear, the unexpected proximity making you jump. She cannot be serious. Even though it’s late afternoon, evening fast approaching, the day is still scorching, hence why you’ve opted out of wearing your sweater on the way back. You didn’t even want to put on shorts over your damp underwear, but alas, you still had some shred of modesty left, not wanting to make whoever was stationed to guard Jackson’s gates uncomfortable.

When her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against her, you swear that you can feel her hips slowly moving as she grinds against you suggestively. Her lips brush against the bare skin of your shoulder, lingering as her warm breath ghosts against your skin, caressing against your neck with its heat. You can’t hold back your gasp at the feeling.

One of her hands travels down, settling against your knee with a gentle squeeze.

“How’s that, Baby Girl, is that better?”

God!

If she doesn’t fuck you soon, you swear you’re gonna kill her. Or, at this rate, she’s gonna kill you first with the way she’s sending your heart racing like that.

If you had thought that getting home, changing into a fresh pair of clothes, and giving yourself the chance to calm your racing heart would magically put an end to whatever was stirring up inside of you, you were sadly incorrect in your assumptions.

You’re sitting on the couch in your living room, wearing a sundress that falls to your knees because it’s light and you enjoy the slight breeze that it creates when you move. It flutters around your legs gently in the humid air. It might provide next to no relief at all, but it’s still better than nothing.

Ellie sits across from you in an armchair. Without even looking, you can feel her staring at you, eyes burning into you with a restrained and tempered want. You suspect that she’s holding it back, now wondering if she’s crossed a boundary today and made you uncomfortable.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but Ellie is the type of person who acts on impulse, then completely over analyzes and over thinks her actions later, until she’s convinced herself that she’s fucked something up. She’s so bold, so confident in the things she does in the moment. But, in the end, she’s still someone who sometimes needs you to explicitly communicate and validate what she does after the fact. Regardless of how her confidence is so vast, and can sometimes be mistaken for being cocky, on the inside, she’s deeply insecure and needs reassurance.

Glancing up at her through your lashes, seeing the way that she twists and fidgets with the hair elastic on her wrist, the slight frown on her face, the almost guilty way her eyes flit away from you when she sees you looking, you know that she needs that right now, and you fully intend to not just give that to her, but encourage her forward.

Setting down the book that you weren’t actually reading, just trying to distract yourself with and completely failing, you rise to your feet, and as you move to her, she looks up at you with a smile, slipping back into its place effortlessly.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Her voice is low and soft, and the way her eyes skim over you, pausing at where your dress falls, the hem barely skimming your knees, makes heat flush at the back of your neck.

“Want somethin’.”

You admit, crawling into her lap, bracing your hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She quirks a brow, and the way her eyes smoulder as she looks at you makes you nervous, stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies as she looks intently at you.

You’ve got her full attention, and now that you do, you don’t know what to do with it. You were fully ready to take the lead on this, but at the end of the day, you’re still shy and inexperienced, and she’s everything that you’re not. To be honest, it’s intimidating, knowing her wealth of experience that you couldn’t even attempt to match.

The insistent butterflies take flight in your stomach; you decide that the only way forward is by pure instinct, and the blind hope that you won’t embarrass yourself too much.

You lean forward slowly, hesitating slightly until, with understanding, Ellie’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you the rest of the way forward until your lips meet hers, and suddenly, you forget exactly what your plan originally was, if you even really had one in the first place. It easily slips out of your mind as you melt against her, effortlessly letting her take the lead.

Her fingers brush against your lower back, holding you securely against her. This isn’t like your usual, every day kiss, one that starts off slow and gentle. Her lips are insistent, pressing against yours with a desperate, persistent need. Her fingers absently brush against your scalp, running through your hair before cupping the back of your neck, the pressure just firm enough.

All you know is her. Her lips, claiming your mouth with a possessiveness that makes you ache for her inside. Her tongue, swiping over your lips, making you gasp slightly. As your lips part for her, you hear the low, satisfied sound she breathes against you as her tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that you’ve never sensed in her before.

Her thigh pushes between your legs, parting them with ease and settling between them, grazing against your clothed heat. When her hand schemes down your lower back, caressing over your ass, before pressing against it with a firm squeeze, you can’t resist the way your hips buck against her, desperately chasing the friction, unable to hold back the small whimper when you’re clit presses against the rough denim of her cut-offs.

The sound seems to startle you so much that you still your movements, eyes going wide as Ellie pulls back to look at you. She doesn’t even bother holding back the smirk that overtakes her features.

“Oh, so that’s what you want.”

Her green eyes darken with want, voice low and gravelly with desire as she studies you, perched on her lap with a needy expression behind your innocent eyes. Her fingers brush against your hips, teasing over your skin.

Heat flushes against your collarbone, spreading to warm your cheeks as you try to look down, wanting to escape the scrutiny of her piercing gaze. She anticipates your movement, and stops you with a hand coming to curl beneath your chin, making a soft noise of disapproval.

“Look at me, pretty girl, and tell me what you want,”

Her voice is still soft, still gentle, but there’s a warning edge that’s crept into it, an effortless authority, that sends a jolt straight through you, making your already throbbing clit pulse with anticipation. Her fingers nudge your chin upwards, holding firmly as she directs your eyes to meet hers, smouldering with uncontained lust as she watches you.

“You.”

Your answer comes out in barely a breath, barely a whisper.

“I want you.”

You feel like your response sounds ridiculous.

It sounds small.

It sounds completely inadequate.

And yet, when Ellie’s hand snakes beneath your dress, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, her lips brushing against your ear as she says low, “that, sweet girl, I would be happy to oblige.”

She flexes her thigh up against your heat, rubbing over your swollen clit, making you cry out in surprise.

Her shirt hits the floor with a dull thump, pulled off by your eager and curious hands. You want to see her. You want to touch her. You want...

But now that it’s off and she’s looking down at you like that, your brain catches up to your body. What are you doing? What are you supposed to do? You don’t know how to do this. You don’t know where to put your hands, and the idea of fumbling around and embarrassing yourself is enough to make you nervous.

She sees the moment you begin to question yourself and overthink it, in the way that you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the way your hand flexes, curling into itself with anxiety.

“Hey,” she says softly, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. Her hands caress up and down the sides of your arms, pulling you from the spiral that your mind was going in, bringing you back to earth with a soothing touch.

“I know that this is your first time, and I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything of you tonight. The only thing I want is to make you feel good. So just, let me do that, okay?”

When she leans in, arms wrapping around you, and her lips press against your neck in a slow, seductive kiss, she can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, and she makes a note to remember that you’re sensitive there.

You feel her lips close to your ear as she speaks.

“Just let me take care of my girl tonight.”

Her hand schemes down your side, fingers drawing teasing circles over your hip. Your eyes close and your breath comes in a sharp, unsteady inhale and all you can do is look at her, eyes hooded, and say in a shaky voice, “please.”

You feel her low chuckle against your neck.

“Such pretty manners,” she hums against your skin, before you feel the gentle graze of teeth join her lips, delivering a small, sharp sting that you imagine will leave a mark.

This thought doesn’t scare you in the way that you thought it would. Your first thought isn’t of how on earth you’re going to cover this up tomorrow. The idea that there will be physical evidence of her, of what she’s doing to you, that there will be a reminder of it in the morning turns you on, sending a thrill through you.

Her tongue replaces where her teeth had just been, gently soothing over the sting. “Good girl,” she breathes, hand coming up to fiddle with the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I want this off,”

She waits for you to nod your consent, and then she’s sliding the straps off your shoulders, letting it fall. It pools around your waist in a soft brush of its material.

Fingers brush over your stomach, and you shiver with anticipation, already knowing the path they intend to travel over your skin. Her hands graze over your ribs, before she curls them around the curves of your breasts. She looks down at them, cradled in her hands, and her lips curl upward.

Warm, experienced hands massage and knead your breasts, gentle caresses and squeezes encouraging, coaxing your nipples to harden beneath her touch. Her thumb brushes over one of the hardening buds, and you gasp at even the slightest attention. She seems to relish in drawing sounds from you, her index finger joining her thumb, as she rolls your perked nipple between her fingers, adding the slightest pinch.

“You’re so fuckin pretty, you know that? The site of these,” she tweaks your other nipple, making your breath stutter, “peeking through your shirt at the lake was teasing me all day.”

Her face buries against your neck, she becomes rougher, more insistent. Still slow and attentive, but there’s a possessive edge to it as she leaves a trail of marks down your throat, your collarbone.

You love every second of getting to see this new side of Ellie, one that you haven’t seen before. The way that she’s intently listening to your body, finding out exactly how to touch you in a way that brings out those little gasps and mules that are like music to her ears, you want to see this side of her more often.

She’s enjoying the sight of her marks on you just as much as you are; a thrill runs through her, knowing that everyone will see that you belong to her.

She pauses toying with your nipple as her hand falls to your thigh, letting her breath graze against your skin, before she leans in, lips encircling the pebbled bud with a gentle suck. You whimper as her teeth barely graze your skin, tongue swirling over the small bud teasingly. She makes an appreciative sound against you while her fingers brush the bare skin of your inner thigh.

Her thumb teases over the seam of your panties, and you swear that you can feel her lips pull into a smirk as she feels the evident wetness pooling there. When she grazes a knuckle over your clothed clit, using a featherlight touch, your hips instinctively buck, you’re so worked up.

“Ellie,” your cheeks flush at the way that she’s got you whining for her with just one touch to wear you’ve been craving her to be. “Please, I, I need you to touch me there.”

“Aww, you’re so pretty when you beg for me,” she coos, two fingers caressing over your heat.

Your head falls back, eyes closing as you try to suppress the whimper that fights to escape at her teasing.

“Ellie, please,” and if you weren’t trying to beg before, you definitely are now.

She tilts her head, a slightly pleased expression crossing her kiss swollen lips as she looks at you, thoroughly unravelled before she’s even fully gotten you undressed.

“That’s all you had to say, Princess.”

Her voice is low and smooth, calm and effortless, in complete juxtaposition to her next actions, because suddenly, your dress is being yanked the rest of the way down, Ellie tossing it to the floor in a careless heap. She lifts you with ease, flipping you around so that your back is pressed against her bare chest. Her arms curl around you, holding you close to her, fingers trailing down your stomach, scheming over the waistband of your panties. One finger hooks under, and she pauses, voice suddenly soft.

“Can I take these off, baby girl?” Her finger strokes along the bare skin that she’s found beneath your panties, just above your mound, inviting, but not moving lower.

“Ellie,” you say with growing desperation. She’s teased you all day, and you can’t take much more of it. You’ve reached the end of your rope, and you can tell, without even having to look at her, that she’s fully aware of it, she’s just enjoying teasing you a little longer, dragging out the moment for even just a few seconds more. She’s so close to where you need her, but not close enough, and you need her to bridge the distance. “You can do whatever you want,” your head falls back against her shoulder, auburn hair tickling against your face as she leans down to whisper.

“Don’t give me any ideas, princess. You might regret it.”

Her words make you shutter, but, nonetheless, she pulls, and in a matter of seconds, she’s sending your panties to join your dress on the floor, with a practiced flick of her wrist.

She doesn’t waste much time now; her hands gently part your thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Pretty Girl, I want to see all of you.”

She coaxes, not that you need much urging. You feel her legs cage over yours, wrapping around them, holding them open for her. Fingers ghost over your curls, dipping between your lips. She collects your wetness, fingers gliding effortlessly up to your clit, coating it in your own arousal.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already soaked for me,” two fingers press against your swollen clit, drawing slow, easy circles over your heat, already making your walls clench around nothing.

Her other hand moves, pausing to give an affectionate pinch to one of your perked breasts, making you gasp in surprise, your hips instinctively jolting forward, pushing against the hand that continues to massage, tease, and press against your clit. It continues its path downward, caressing over your hip, your inner thigh.

Long, tapered fingers dip between your folds, tentatively swirling around your entrance, gathering the wetness that’s collected there. You don’t realize you’re begging until, achingly slowly, one of her fingers brushes over your tight, glistening hole. She doesn’t push it forward, only curling it slightly to pet at your entrance.

“F-fuck, please,” your head falls back against her shoulder, and your hips push forward, trying to take her inside, but to no avail.

“Such a needy girl,” she murmurs, smirking at the way that you nod.

She’s got you so desperate that you’ll agree to anything she says; you won’t even try to deny it. It would be pointless, anyways. All she has to do is look down and see the way that your hips are bucking against her to know that you would be lying through your teeth. Nonetheless, she gently eases a finger inside you and you let out a long, tremulous breath as she pushes her finger, easing it all the way inside until she’s down to her knuckle.

She’s watching carefully for your reactions and she can feel how tight you are around her; she doesn’t want to cause you any pain. But when she tentatively, curiously, crooks her finger slightly upward, searching, a jolt runs through you, your body trembling and hips jerking forward, chasing the contact. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and you need more.

“Fuck, I, Ellie, I I want,” your hands grip onto her thighs tightly.

She presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck before whispering,“That’s it, baby, use your words. Tell me what you need,” her finger pumps in and out at an unhurried, languid pace, barely grazing over that spot that you so desperately need her to touch.

“Need more of you inside me,” you whimper, unable to keep the desperate edge from creeping into your voice. A second finger joins the first, slowly pushing through your entrance. You immediately feel the stretch, unfamiliar to having someone else’s fingers there, but you’re quickly distracted, because as soon as both fingers are pushing into you, she increases the pressure against your throbbing clit, fingers drawing rough, tight circles over your swollen bud.

The sound you make is high and uncontained.

Calloused fingers brush against your inner walls, clenching around them as Ellie stretches you out. Her fingers curl, a slight beckoning motion as she easily finds that spot inside of you. The pads of her fingers press firmly against it, fingers insistently petting at your center with small, precise strokes against your sweet spot. She's hitting that spot in a way that you’ve never been able to accomplish on your own.

You’re seeing stars, because she’s everywhere you want and need her to be, and now, the only thing you can do is grind your hips down against her fingers that are so effortlessly toying with you.

It comes out of nowhere, the coil that eagerly begins to tighten in your stomach. Your toes curl with anticipation, and your hands are gripping onto her so tightly. You’re pretty sure that you’re the one who’s going to be leaving bruises now. Her fingers continue to thrust in and out of your weeping cunt, and maintain the relentless pressure against your clit.

Ellie’s chin rests against your shoulder, watching attentively, and if you could see her, you’d see how utterly enthralled she is at how much of a mess she’s made you, eyes heavy as she watches her fingers plunge in and out of your cunt. Her voice is low against your ear, rough, commanding when she speaks.

“That’s it, Baby Girl, I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers and cum for me.”

You’ve always experienced orgasms as a gradual build, a wave, gently cresting against the shore. So, the way the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps, almost an instant after Ellie finishes speaking, has you taken completely by surprise. She’s attached her lips back onto your neck, sucking a mark just against your pulse point, which she feels fluttering rapidly beneath her tongue.

There’s the stuttering of hips accompanied by a sharp cry and Ellie feels your walls tighten around her fingers, unceasing in her ministrations even as your orgasm barrels through you.

“Good girl, fucking give it to me,” she nearly growls, as her fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. All you can do is whimper uselessly, rocking your hips against her hand, as thrills ignite every inch of your body, making you tremble all over.

When you come down from your high, you’re collapsed against her chest, and she’s slowly easing off the pressure.

The first thing you notice is that you don’t feel the same as you usually would if you had just done this by yourself. For some reason, you thought that you were a one and done kind of girl. Usually you orgasm once, and then you take a nap, feeling for the most part satisfied. But as her fingers slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty, all you can think is that you want more.

Then, Ellie’s holding up her glistening fingers, slick with your arousal, in front of her face. You turn to watch her, curious, as she slides them into her mouth, licking them clean. She hums, and you raise a brow questioningly as she looks down at you, her eyes bearing an expression that is almost predatory in its intensity.

“What?” you ask, already feeling goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just, now that I’ve had a taste of you, I want more.” You turn fully to face her, lips curving into a smirk. Your hand trails over her breasts, and she looks at you with interest.

“Please,” you’re still breathless, and your voice is still unsteady.

“I want you too.”

“Atta girl, just like that.”

Admittedly, as much as you’ve had countless fantasies involving sitting on Ellie’s face, the prospect of actually doing it, as much as you want to, gives you pause. She’s carried you up to the bed, at some point along the way, the rest of her clothes came off, you’ll probably find them scattered along the hallway later. But that doesn’t matter right now.

What matters is that you’re hovering over her face, looking down at her while trying not to look nervous and out of your comfort zone, which you totally are, and she obviously isn’t buying it. Gentle hands reach for you, holding your hips and pulling you against her easily.

“All the way down, Honey, that’s it,” she coaxes, easing you down onto her. “You’re good, you’re not gonna kill me,” her hand caresses up and down your side, soothing, even as you feel her warm breath ghosting over your heat, making your cheeks flush, as you look down at how close she is to you.

“I gotcha’, Pretty Girl, just relax,” her voice is smooth, assured, confident, in a way that makes your muscles relax in spite of yourself.

That’s when you feel her tongue, warm and wet, brushing through your folds. The sensation is so new, so unfamiliar to you, that for a second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, her tongue flattens, pressing over your clit and applying a slight pressure that has you arching against her. Her tongue curls over your swollen nub, gently drawing it towards her lips, an almost imperceptible pulling motion that has your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, finding a grip against the headboard of the bed.

She makes a contented hum as her lips wrap around your center, the sound vibrating against you making your hips jolt. Her hands curl around the undersides of your thighs, holding you in place. Your hands hold onto the headboard of the bed for dear life, feeling like it’s the only solid thing that you have to hold onto, keeping you from toppling over the edge and out of control.

You’ve never felt like this before. Each swipe of her tongue over your heat, the gentle pulse of her lips as she sucks, enveloping you in her warm, wet mouth, brings a new sensation thrumming through your veins, almost akin to fire as it shoots through you, pleasure licking over every inch of your skin like flames. It’s overwhelming, in such a way that you don’t know what to do with it, how to express it.

All you can do, at this point, is roll your hips against her mouth, hold onto the headboard, and let small, desperate whimpers escape your lips. You’re trying to hold onto some semblance of containing yourself, because you don’t know what would happen if you let yourself unravel completely. You’re terrified of what Ellie might see if you fell apart like that.

She seems to be doing everything she can to break away at your composure though. Her tongue is alternating between dragging slow, tender circles over your clit, and firm, quick strokes, that has your head falling against your hands, braced against the headboard. She flicks her tongue against you, her lips surrounding your clit in a particularly firm suck, and before you know it, you’re spilling over the edge, eyes shut tightly, and breath releasing in a long, shuttering moan that seems to run from the top of your head to the tips of your tightly curled toes, her tongue continuing to caress you over your peak.

She moans into you, and it all becomes too much. Your head is thrown back and your hands are reaching down, tangling in her hair, to push her away or pull her closer; it’s unclear in your fuzzy mind. All the while, her insistent tongue continues to swirl over your increasingly oversensitive bundle of nerves, the relentless and inescapable pleasure making you shiver all over, while a light sweat breaks out on your bare skin.

You only drift back into yourself when you become aware of a shift. It’s so fast, you barely have time to even blink, before Ellie manoeuvres you, flipping you onto your back and roughly parting your thighs with her hands. Her fingers run through your glistening folds, calloused thumb pressing against your aching, overstimulated clit. The sensation has you gasping, crying out, and trying to close your legs, buck your hips, move away.

Frantically, you try to jam your legs shut, trying to escape her mercilessly teasing fingers. Rough hands force your thighs apart, putting you on display for her as she holds you open.

“Uh uh, not this time, Baby,” she tuts disapprovingly. “No more holding back on me, Sweet Girl,” listening to the low, dominant tone of her voice is like a drug to you, and your eyes roll back into your head as she speaks.

“I want everyone to know how good I fuck this pretty little pussy.” Two fingers circle your clit and you jolt, trying to move away. But a strong arm pushes your hips down, pinning you against the bed easily.

Faster than you can process, her fingers retreat, and you don’t even have time to feel relieved, because a split second later, her hand comes down against your cunt with a smack, delivering a stinging, rough spank that has you crying out, clit throbbing and pulsing with the agonizingly delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, and you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

Two fingers notch at your entrance, but she waits, looking at you, a silent question, an invitation for you to tell her that this is too much and that you need to stop. You know she would in a heartbeat if you told her that this was too much or too rough for you right now, and that’s what makes you feel safe enough to continue.

So, when you respond by attempting to push your hips forward against her, a soft whimper falling from your lips, she smirks, and with the slightest movement of her wrist, her fingers thrust into you. Seconds later, her face is buried in between your legs, tongue gently lapping at your sensitive clit. After two orgasms, you’re hyper aware of every movement; every swirl of her tongue is sweet, hot agony that undoes you in seconds.

At the same moment her lips take your clit into her mouth, holding it as her tongue swipes a tight, rough circle over your heat, her fingers curl, and she finds that spot inside you that makes your legs begin to shake, pressing against it with each punishing thrust of her fingers.

Your moans are loud, unrestrained, sounds that you would be embarrassed to make if you were in any way capable of controlling them. But you’re not, because your mind is only filled with her, her and her tongue on your clit, and her strong fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt, playing with you as easily and as effortlessly as she plays the guitar.

She’s clearly enjoying the sounds that fall from your lips, every beg and plea and moan of her name making her feel quite smug that she’s undone you so easily…she encourages you to continue, making a contented hum against your clit. She only looks up long enough to say:

“That’s it, I want to hear you being such a dirty little girl for me.”

A third finger slowly, carefully, pushes in; the stretch makes you feel so full, so good, it nearly takes your breath away. Her fingers thrust in and out slowly, testing the waters, wanting to make sure that you’ve adjusted – but you are having absolutely none of it.

Your head is thrown back and your hips are thrusting forward, or trying to, but her arm is so fucking strong that she doesn’t even have to try that hard to keep you pinned against the mattress, exactly where she wants you to be. You don’t even realize you’re begging until you see her smirking up at you.

“Please, Ellie, please, fuck, I-I want,” it’s a challenge to even string coherent words together, but you’re distracted by her face, now looking up at you as her thumb takes over, stroking against your clit.

“Come on, Baby girl, tell me what you want,” she presses her thumb a little harder into you, making you gasp brokenly.

You take a breath to steady yourself, and your words still come out stuttered, but you say them, blushing in a way that she finds absolutely endearing considering you’re already spread out on her bed with three of her fingers buried inside of you.

“I-I want it harder,” you admit, your cheeks burning. “Want you to fuck me.”

“You’re so fuckin pretty when you use your words like that, Baby,” she praises. “Such a good fuckin girl,” then, her fingers are thrusting in and out, setting a rough pace, hitting that spot in a way that feels so much stronger than it already was.

When she lowers her head, tongue dipping between your folds, returning to feast at your clit rough, persistent swirls and flicks over your swollen center, any slight ability to contain yourself is lost. You’re not aware of the sounds that you’re making, or the way that your hands scramble to find a hold on something, anything solid, eventually coming to clutch the soft bed sheets, holding them tightly in between your fingers.

You’re only aware that your orgasm is approaching, and that Ellie, little by little, is nudging you towards a peak that once you make it over, you think might absolutely wreck you, in the best possible way. All you know is that you want this, you want her. You need her.

God.

You really fucking need her.

She feels your walls beginning to flutter around her, her free hand shifts down, coming to grip your thigh, opening you even wider for her.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make for me when you cum.”

She says against you, adjusting her wrist to fuck you with her fingers deeper. The new angle has you keening, hips desperately thrusting to chase the friction of whatever new spot she’s hitting.

Her tongue flattening against you as she draws firm, tight circles over your bundle of nerves, The way that your back is arching, hips uselessly trying to grind down against her and her relentless fingers, fucking into your weeping cunt mercilessly. She’s guiding you exactly to where she wants you to go, straight up towards that peak. Your vision blurs.

“Fucking give it to me, Pretty Girl, want you to cum for me, all over my fingers and my mouth.”

Your back arches off the bed, and suddenly, all you know is wave after wave of ecstasy that crashes through your body, electric shocks that pulse through you, making you jolt and flail uselessly combined with the rhythmic pumping of her fingers, and the dipping and swirling of her tongue against you.

She works you through your orgasm, never slowing the movements of her tongue or her fingers that continue to drag in and out of you, sustaining your pleasure for as long as she can possibly hold it. Her lips wrap around your clit, as her tongue swipes through your folds, collecting all the wetness that she can find. She hums against you, encouraging your loud moans, and by the time it’s over, you’re a shaking, completely fucked out mess on her bed,

If you happened to see the expression on her face as she watches you writhing beneath her, your hands twisting the sheets into knots and broken, unrestrained whimpers fall from your lips, she’s taking in the sight with immense appreciation, as if you’re the work of art she’s just created.

Turns out, the only thing that you have the ability to do post-three orgasms is roll over onto your stomach, shaking and trembling, and try, desperately, to regain your breath.

Ellie, for her part, crawls up the bed beside you, hand coming up to tenderly stroke back the hair that sticks to your forehead, before gently rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby, that’s it, just breathe for me.”

You’re eventually able to regain your breath, but your body feels floppy and light, and you can’t even begin to comprehend the slightest of movements. Ellie tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, saying softly, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna get something to clean you up, okay?”

You nod in slight acknowledgement of her words, but your mind is still fuzzy, and the only thing that you’re really aware of right now is the sudden sleepiness that comes over you in a soft, comforting wave. You feel her stroke your hair once more before she rises from the bed, briefly pausing to look at how fucked out you are, stretched out across her bed, bare skin glistening with sweat that makes your hair stick to your forehead, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

“So pretty,” she breathes, before exiting.

She isn’t gone long, and when she returns your eyes are closed, head buried against a pillow. She kneels between your legs, hand reaching out to gently rub your back as you turn your head to look at her.

“Just need to clean you up, pretty,” she whispers, and you realize how sticky you are in between your legs.

“Okay,” you mumble, your voice sounding slightly hoarse, similar to the way it does when you first wake up in the morning. Were you really moaning that much?

You feel a warm, damp washcloth brushing against your inner thigh. It’s nice, soothing, but as Ellie moves towards the place in between your legs, you instinctively flinch, overstimulated and slightly sore.

A large hand splays out over your back gently. “I know, Honey, it’s okay, I've got you,” Ellie soothes.

She runs the cloth over your folds. “There we go, sweet girl, almost done.” Its brush against your clit makes you cry out, leg kicking out instinctively. Ellie shushes you gently, pressing chased, featherlight kisses against your spine, the curve of your hip, effectively distracting you while she finishes cleaning you up.

When she’s done, she throws the cloth to the side, coming to sit beside you. “Okay, Baby, I just need you to get up and go for a quick pee.” You turn your head to look at her in bewilderment, staring up at her with your eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You ask, confused. She chuckles softly at your expression.

“Because, nowadays there isn’t much to protect ourselves from any infections that we could pick up while doing this,” she gestures vaguely. “And this is the one thing that we can do to at least try to help prevent something from coming up,”

“Buuut Elliee, I don’t wanna get up,” you grumble, burying your face back into the pillow.

She sighs softly, “come on, it’ll be fast, and then we can get back into bed and cuddle for as long as you want.”

That idea is tempting, but she could just get into bed with you right now and cuddle. Plus, you want to know who gave her this information, because it sounds pretty fucking stupid to you.

“I don’t want to,” you grumble.

Ellie playfully hits you with a pillow. “Come on, Lazy Ass,” she’s guiding you to sit up now, in spite of how much you’re resisting, because the bed is so warm and soft.

“Besides,” she reasons, “we both go out on patrol in three days, and I am not dealing with you having to dismount your horse every five minutes because you got a urinary tract infection and now you need to pee every time we hit a bump on the path.”

You dramatically sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it, Jesus Christ,” you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays your true feelings. “On one condition,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“What?” Ellie is fighting to restrain a smile, because you’re just too goddamn cute when you’re like this.

“You have to carry me there and back,” you say, reaching your arms up like a child who wants to be picked up.

She sighs, feigning annoyance, but she’s already positioning an arm beneath your knees. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she mutters against your hair as she cradles you against her chest.

You snuggle into her, smile growing wide as she moves towards the door, holding you in her arms. “Don’t lie, you love it.”

“Shut up ,” she says, hand sneaking around to give your ass an affectionate squeeze, making you gasp and giggle in surprise, instinctively kicking, nearly falling out of her arms in the process. But her hold is secure, arms tightening around you as your cheek presses against her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got you.”

After gently setting you back in bed, once you’ve finally gone to the bathroom, grumbling the whole way there and back, Ellie went to get you a glass of water. She’s been gone for less than 30 seconds, and you already miss the feeling of her body, Strong and warm and steady, pressed against you. While she’s gone though, you entertain yourself by letting your eyes roam over your body, finding the evidence of her, left behind on your skin. You discover each new mark, each trace of her presence imprinted on you with the anticipation and joy of a child finding Easter eggs.

Your hand runs over your inner thigh, Lips pulling into a smile as you take in the sight of the finger shaped bruises that she left from where she gripped onto you so tightly. The site makes a warm, tingling feeling settle in your stomach.

You don’t hear her approach from behind you, and she must not see the expression on your face.

“Did I hurt you? Was it, was it too much?”

You turn, eyebrows raised and already shaking your head with vehemence, to find her watching you, biting her lip, concerned frown on her face.

“What, no, no, Ells, it’s just,” you avert your eyes, the blush creeping onto your face is mortifying, and in spite of everything you too just did, and how you had expected talking about things like this would be easier now, it’s still hard to admit it out loud.

She catches your chin in her hand, gently redirecting your eyes back up to meet hers. Seeing her so close to you, you don’t have to look hard to see the anxieties, trying to be contained and hidden, but dancing behind her eyes nonetheless.

You feel your heart clench. She’s opened up to you about her past on a few occasions, but when she has, it was easy to sense how fearful she was of her own inclinations towards violence, regardless of how necessary and imperative it might have been for her survival. She’s like a fire, impulsive and easy to set off, her flames all-consuming without a second thought. But after, even now, even when all this is small bruises marking your skin in the heated passion of lust, that will fade and be gone within a few days, she’ll still twist herself into knots, thinking and overthinking until she’s convinced herself that she’s ruined you.

“Please, Babe, tell me the truth,” her voice is soft, barely a whisper, but you hate the way that there’s a slight tremble in it, so uncharacteristic of Ellie. It breaks what’s left of your embarrassment, and the words fall from your lips without hesitation now.

“It wasn’t too much. It’s just, I-I liked it...the marks... I think it’s kind of hot.”

You wonder, in the back of your mind, if she can feel the way your cheek heats beneath her hand, resting against it ever so lightly. Her breath comes out in a soft, surprised laugh, and you’re relieved to see the concerned edges fade from her expression, a smirk instead overtaking her lips. “

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she whispers, fingers coming to trace over the scattered marks, littered across your neck and collarbone.

“You’re cold,” she observes, hands running up and down your arms, goosebumps beginning to form there. You hadn’t even noticed that you had begun to shiver.

When she crawls into bed behind you, wrapping her arms around you, Holding you against her, her warmth settles into your bones, running through you like melted chocolate. She brings the glass of water to your lips, insisting that you drink, and refusing to back down, in spite of your protests that you’ll need to get up to go pee in the middle of the night and does she realize how annoying that is?

She does, but she still coaxes you to drink half the glass.

You hold the glass up to her, pouting slightly. “Now you drink some, I feel like you should, too, because you were doing a lot of work, you know, with your mouth,” you say suggestively.

“Oh my God, shut up,” she groans. She gives you a playful shove that nearly makes the glass tumble from your hand. But she has quick reflexes, and her hand is steady against yours as she gently grabs your wrist, preventing the spill.

“Careful, Hun,” she cautions, plucking the glass out of your hand easily. “If only to appease you,” she sighs dramatically, before tipping it back and draining the glass.

The inevitable crash that you hadn’t, but probably should’ve, anticipated hits you all at once. It starts with a sigh that quickly turns into a yawn that seems to take all of your energy with it. You move to shrug your shoulders, brush it off like it’s nothing, because honestly, it’s only just starting to get dark outside, you can’t go to sleep right now, it’s just too early.

Your bones feel oddly heavy, sore in a way that shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Adrenaline, and passion have temporarily blinded you to trivial things, like being a human and having a body that can get physically exhausted, especially after trying so many new things at once. You wince because fuck, you hadn’t realized how tense you had been holding yourself today until now, and the consequences are quickly setting in.

She’s watching you, observing you closely as she always does. She doesn’t say a word, but she intuitively understands.

She brushes your hair off to one side, and you shiver as your bare neck and shoulders are exposed to her. Warm hands settle over your shoulders, there’s a gentle squeeze, an unspoken question, an offering. The way your head falls forward, the low, contented noise that falls from your lips is all the ascent that she needs.

Her thumbs gingerly press into the tense muscles beneath them. She hums sympathetically, feeling how tender you are beneath her. She keeps her movements slow and precise as she presses her thumbs against you, applying a slight pressure, running them over the backs of your shoulders, gently encouraging the tension to release. She’s ceaselessly patient, only continuing her path upward when she can feel your muscles relax, giving into her ministrations.

She continues to massage across your shoulders and your upper back, seeming to find and undo tension in places that you didn’t even realize you were carrying. It makes you sleepy, the gentle caress of her hands gliding over your skin, paired with the firm press of her knuckles, exactly where you need it.

One of her hands slowly runs up the back of your neck, gently cupping you at the base of your skull. Her fingers smooth over your temples, stress easing away as your eyes flutter shut. Her other hand continues to press and massage in between your shoulder blades, firm and insistent as she smooths her thumbs over the tight knot that’s gathered there, with patient persistence, making it unravel at her touch, and forcing the tension to leave your body.

“Relax, Pretty Girl, I’m not going anywhere,” her voice is a low rumble against your ear.

Her lips brush over one of the bruises she’s left on the side of your neck, and suddenly, it’s like all the tension bleeds out of you, draining so quickly that you don’t have time to catch yourself.

She laughs softly as you try to contain the yawn that tears through you as she eases you back towards the pillows. She wraps a soft blanket around both of you, covering your bodies and making sure you’re tucked in securely.

She settles in behind you, warm, bare skin pressing against yours as she curls herself around you. A strong arm wraps around your waist, gently tugging you close to her as her leg hooks over yours.

You’re barely awake, only aware enough to snuggle into her, saying sleepily, “if this is the treatment I’m going to get after one swimming lesson, what are you gonna do when I’ve mastered it?”

There’s a soft chuckle, low against your ear as she whispers, “don’t worry about that, pretty girl, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

She kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment as she adoringly watches your eyes flutter. You sigh with contentment, letting a sleepy smile graze over your lips. Maybe she doesn’t realize what she’s doing, maybe she isn’t even aware…but, in this moment, you’re surrounded by her.

Her safety.

Her warmth .

Her unconditional and unwavering love is curled around your heart as closely as she’s curled herself around you. She’s here, she’s safety, she’s love,and right now, she is all that you could ever want.

this was actually my first attempt at writing smut, and in spite of how nervous I am to share it, I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. So if you enjoyed it, please let me know, notes, comments, and re-blogs are so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us #The last of us part

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dadsbongos · 13 days

Note

megumi x airhead fluff please don’t let gege get u again 😔

iehjejeueueh

GASP this has been in my drafts so long and i totally forgot about it, i am sooo sorry nonny :')

761 words no big warnings just fluff n idiots pining, not super proofread

the ghost of gege has been cleansed from my soul!!! ~~~

“Do you really think that?”

Megumi stiffly avoids your gaze, soon after shrugging, “Yeah. What of it?”

You frown, and it could be how attuned he is to your mood but Megumi swears the sudden shift actually overhauls the entire room’s energy. Something morose and slithering around the darkness, somehow the gloominess only thickens in the areas sparsely lit by Megumi’s lamp.

“That’s sad,” you lean up from your sit and onto your knees, fingertips just barely pressing into the springs below, “You’re not a bad person, ‘gumi.”

“I don’t think I’m the devil,” he turns his whole head to avoid your piercing stare, “Just not a good person.”

“That’s sad!” now you’ve flung your hands up on his shoulders, squeezing down his arms as if a heartbroken widow clutching her poor, dead husband, “‘gumi you’re the best guy I know!”

Scrunching away from you, Megumi presses his back into the headboard of his bed, swallowing harshly and continuously dodging your stare, “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” you whine, now squishing his hands between yours, “You are! You’re super nice all the time, and you’re way smart.”

The accusation of kindness pulls a little chuckle from Megumi, especially considering how often Yuuji and Nobara curse his nasty attitude. He cannot comprehend why you’d marvel over him this way, or in any other way for that fact. Megumi’s eyes flutter shut, he soaks up the warmth of your hands on his, and your face by his cheek. If he dared lean up, he’d easily be able to kiss you (he’s not so bold, he thinks he’d rather die actually).

“And you’re so pretty,” you tack on, as if you can sense the worst possible thing to say right now.

Though, Megumi knows better -- you’re soft and mellow, his opposite if anything. The knowledge of your earnesty in the compliment does nothing to calm his racing heart, or the raging red slathering his face.

“Whatever…” Megumi sinks down until he’s laid back on his mattress. He sucks in air slowly, boring holes into the ceiling rather than your face, “You’re pretty, too. And you’re nicer than me,” he cringes, “If you’re still sure I’m nice.”

“You are,” you lay beside him, petting a hand over the bunches and wrinkles in his sleep shirt, “You’re being nice now! You let me come over after my nightmare.”

“You sounded scared,” he tries to shrug off the praise, but your words are clinging to his brain stubbornly, “Why would I make you sleep alone after that?”

“Exactly,” you’re bolder than Megumi, bold enough to spike your chin onto his chest, “You’d be a great boyfriend.”

“You don’t say,” he chokes out, heat clogging his cheeks and red burning into a deep crimson. He prays the dim light emitting from his nightstand doesn’t expose the sight to you.

A melodic knock on Megumi’s door makes the duo flinch, and despite logic telling him nothing is wrong Megumi lets his arm come around your waist protectively. When its Satoru that pokes his head in, the boy grumbles.

“Hey, problem children,” Satoru coos, “if you’re gonna break rules, at least move apart when your teacher comes to scold you.”

“They had a nightmare,” Megumi’s hold on you tightens, “they didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Is that right?” Satoru’s blindfold is still snug around his face, but Megumi can feel his teacher’s stare pointed at where your head lays on his chest.

You nod viciously, “It was so scary! I thought I died for real, so ‘gumi let me stay with him so I don’t have another one.”

“Well how sweet,” Satoru taps the doorframe, “But c’mon, time for everyone to go to their own rooms.”

“Huh, no way!” you cry in protest, rocketing up straight.

“No way,” Megumi parrots.

Raising a brow, Satoru grins at his student’s sudden audacity, “You want me to stay in here with you both, then?”

“You want me to tell Yaga about the secret number in your phone?” Megumi glares, “The one you know by heart.”

Satoru grimaces down at the boy, then sighing and back out of the room, “Don’t do anything to make Yaga yell at me.”

“Wow, ‘gumi, you really got him.”

“He’s easy to wrangle, like training a big, stupid dog,” Megumi feels his heart thundering in his chest the longer you go without saying anything, simply sitting there and grinning at him, “What?”

“You stood up for me.”

“Duh.”

“That was really nice of you.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back onto him, “Yeah, whatever.”

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fluff #airhead reader #airhead regen

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notjustjavierpena · 12 days

Text

Late Night Feelings

Main Masterpost

A/N: Hey people, my first fic in a while. Hubby will be back soon but be patient.

Summary: Lucien enjoys phone sex with you… his ex who is in a relationship.

Pairing: Lucien Flores x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, infidelity

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55842253

Late Night Feelings

It is like clockwork by now. Lucien has made a ritual out of it and set up a routine for himself. He waits with his phone lying next to him on the couch, a box of tissues nearby, and a beer bottle, half-drunk, on the coffee table in his living room. He is already hard and aching in his underwear from the anticipation and knowledge of what will come, already without his usual slacks on and with his shirt unbuttoned to expose his beating chest.

You should have called him by now, so why haven’t you? He impatiently shifts a little on the spot. To distract himself, he takes another sip of his beer and drums his fingers on his thigh to not think about the iron grip you have around his balls.

You have had him in the palm of your hand like this for almost two months now. You call once a week, every Wednesday after your boyfriend has gone to bed, and then you beg him to talk you through it and remind you of how he used to fuck you when you were together. The first time around, you had said that he was the only one who knew your pussy well enough to do it and his ego soared above the clouds.

Lucien knows it is wrong but the forbidden nature of what you are doing makes him have the best jerk-off sessions of his life. He doesn’t care about your motives, can’t be bothered to even ask because it is none of his business and he gets to come. People suck and fuck, it is in their nature, so he has no intention of playing the detective.

He adjusts himself in his briefs as an excuse to touch himself, hissing bitterly as time goes by without you, and he cannot keep himself from palming his cock through the straining fabric. He lets his head fall backward on the back of the couch, a groan slipping past his lips as he starts touching himself on top of his underwear. Steadily, a patch of his precome forms on the front because you are dancing naked and sexy behind his lids in his mind.

The phone ringing nearly has him coming from the surprise because he has worked himself to the edge without even holding his dick in his fist. He swears under his breath, removing his hand to frantically search for his phone on the sofa only to find that it has slipped into the space between the two cushions.

He answers with annoyance, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Got held up,” you don’t apologize. He notices your ragged breathing almost immediately, can almost feel it against his ear and through the receiver. You are panting a little, probably flustered, cute, and wet from having been denied him like he has been denied you.

“Started without me?” He asks with a shit-eating grin, clenched fist lying along his side despite wanting to finish the handjob he was imagining you giving him.

“Not exactly,” you say without elaborating and the water in your shower turns on in the background. It is different from your usual pattern. Usually, you use the toy that you keep in bathroom drawers next to your hairdryer.

Lucien narrows his eyes in suspicion. When you refrain from answering a second too long, his eyes widen when he figures it out.

“You little whore,” he smiles into the phone after the initial shock settles. In his underwear, his cock moves involuntarily at the thought of how used and desperate your pussy must be now, “You’re freshly fucked, aren’t you?”

“Stop,” you whimper with shame at his crude words.

“So how was he? And why do you even need me?” He pushes your patience, gives in to temptation, and lifts his hips to shove his briefs down over his thighs. His cock springs free and stands in the air in its touch-starved state, the head reddened from having been edged once.

You are silent for a moment but then sigh in defeat, sounding annoyed but it can only be with yourself from the words that leave your mouth and stroke Lucien’s ego dangerously, “He was fine but he can’t make me come.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says triumphantly, squeezing around the base of his excited cock. He gets comfortable on the couch, scooting towards the edge a little, “So tell me what you need, baby. Are you getting out the toy?”

“No, I need to clean up,” you tell him. He groans when he realizes you are probably naked on the other end of the line, most likely dripping with your boyfriend’s come - you always liked getting creampied when you were with him - and feeling horny out of your mind because your boyfriend has left you unsatisfied. He’d never do you dirty like that; clit throbbing with the need to get its sweet release, blood rushing through your lower body until it aches and has you squeezing your thighs together.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” he orders to find out exactly how far you are in your session, not wanting to start without you in case he comes too soon. He hears you stand in the tub to detach the shower head from the wall.

“Using the shower head,” you say simply and he spots a bead of precome running down the side of his dick, “It’s quick and easy.”

“So you have that in common,” he smiles at the scoff you let out, hearing the sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub while you move to lie down on your back. He dares a few strokes to his cock, his heartbeat all over his body, “You make it so difficult to wait. Need to hear you.”

“Gimme a moment,” you reply and there’s more shuffling, “There’s actually a lot at risk taking my phone with me in he— mhm…”

Lucien nearly loses his mind at your soft moan. He squeezes his cock again, wanting to tell it to calm down like he would a happy and excited dog. He breathes your name slowly.

“Talk me through it,” he demands as he touches himself carefully, “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

“I’ve turned on— oh god, the jet stream,” you sigh in satisfaction, giggling a little like all his snark is forgiven now that pleasure starts flowing through you, “It’s so good, I wish you could feel it.”

Lucien swears under his breath, moving his hand languidly up and down his cock until his pelvis starts moving involuntarily. How he misses being inside of you, feeling you giggle like that when he gets you in the mood. He had never imagined that it would be hearing you use the shower head to come that would make him all nostalgic.

“You are so fucking adorable when you get your clit played with,” he muses with a slightly breathless voice.

“And I still smile when I come,” you say and he tenses up when the image flashes in his head. It doesn’t help when you moan a little louder, “It’s really intense.”

“How the hell are you doing that?” He groans. He strokes a little faster, trying not to get lost in the relief that it brings to finally get himself off in case he doesn’t concentrate properly.

“It’s just moving the stream up and down on my clit,” you explain, breathing heavily into the receiver, “The water feels warm and— oh, Luce.”

“And?” He almost gasps for breath by now, heart slamming against his ribs.

“And then I just hold it steady when I’m just about to—“ you are interrupted by a sudden loud moan and he knows that you have moved the stream to your center, letting the water pound down on your clit until you cannot help lifting your hips towards more.

He cannot help himself; his imagination goes wild. It wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly and he almost wants to mourn that it’s almost over. He speaks filth as his cock throbs from teetering on the edge together with you.

“Is the orgasm I’m giving you gonna make that little pussy cry?” He asks with a mocking tone, a moan slipping from his lips as pleasure starts to build at the bottom of his spine. He can see your pussy in his head, spasming with each excited jump of your clit, “You gonna spill his come all over the bathtub?”

“I’m giving me this orgasm,” you correct him during your climbing cries, panting into the phone and he starts going faster on his dick to meet you there. Fuck, he loves coming alongside you.

“Bullshit. Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he barks out and follows it up with a desperate swear, reaching up to focus on the head so he doesn’t have to move his hand a lot. He closes his eyes and he can see you, brows furrowed and eyes rolling back as if you are possessed by pleasure.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” you don’t even hesitate to respond. He can hear that you have started to hold your breath, gasping for air every few seconds, and he knows you’ll come even if you didn’t announce it like you always do for him.

“I’m gonna—“ you gasp again and he knows you’re concentrating on getting there. Another gasp and he knows you are quivering, “Gonna come. Fuck, Luce, I’m gonna come. Gonnacomegonnacomegonnacome, I— ah!”

He remembers what your face is like when you peak - that dirty little smile that turns into furrowed brows - and the image of the last time he had you on your back with him pops into his head. He can’t contain himself anymore, hearing you sob through the water cascading down on your swollen clit, knowing your thighs are tense, and your cunt is pushing out the last evidence of another - more unworthy - man. His balls draw up, his dick throbs and then he grunts a fuuuck as come shoots from the tip of his dick. He strokes himself through it, timing it with each spurt of white from his cock until he has milked himself dry and he grows so sensitive that he has to stop.

“All I have to do is ask you, isn’t it? Then you’d leave him,” he taunts you as you both come down from your orgasm, breathing softly against each other’s ears through the receiver. You usually hold a hand over your mound as you relish in aftershocks, sometimes daring to touch your overstimulated clit to see if it’s all over.

“Luce,” you drag out his name with a breathy moan and he knows you are doing exactly what he imagined. There’s a hint of annoyance in your tone because how dare he remind you of such a true fact?

“What?” He challenges, pulling a few tissues out of the box on his coffee table. He has the phone neatly tucked between his shoulder and head as he wipes himself down and tries not to hiss at the sensitivity, “Don’t deny it.”

“Fuck you,” you say bitterly, “I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“You want it so badly,” he continues to taunt. He throws the crumpled tissues onto the coffee table (he’ll clean it up later), “Why don’t you break up with your little boyfriend and then come over so I can get you fucking pregnant?”

“Lucien,” you say his name sharply, “Stop it. I can’t do that.”

“I would stop if that’s what you really want,” he replies, amused. He loves shocking you.

You fume quietly on the other end, “I’ll call you next week.”

He doesn’t manage to answer with some other bratty remark as the line disconnects. However, he isn’t worried because he knows you will… and he knows he is right.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#lucien flores #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #the uninvited #pedro pascal characters #lucien flores smut #my writing #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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tboygareth · 8 months

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the charming of steve goddamned harrington, as told by jeff

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: ‘charm’ | wc: 548 | rated: g | cw: none, outsider pov

to say that jeff has known eddie all their lives would not be an exaggeration or an overstatement. one of jeff's earliest memories is his fifth birthday party- a cookout with his parents and his sister and the boy who lived in the house across the street.

he didn't even know eddie's name at the time, he just remembers the way the boy, a year or two older than himself, had pressed a finger to his mouth in a shh kind of gesture as he tore off chunks of his blackened hot dog to feed to the ancient yellow lab curled up under the picnic table in the back yard.

and now, more than a decade later, jeff is still watching in awe as eddie quietly slips treats to the object of his affection. except this time the treats aren't blackened hot dog bits- they're smiles. and the object of eddie's affection isn't a geriatric yellow labrador anymore- it's ex king of hawkins high steve goddamned harrington.

and the thing is... steve is reciprocating. he's smiling back, his face a little pink at the edges. he's laughing at all of eddie's bad jokes- actually laughing, too, like he’s charmed by him

these two idiots are gone on each other, and jeff doesn't even think they realize it. they definitely don't realize whatever feelings they're nursing are being reciprocated; if they did jeff's sure he would have heard about it before now. he and eddie don't hide things from each other and they never really have.

whatever this is, it must be new. maybe they're sneaking around together, getting their bearings before telling their friends. maybe they're both just crushing and skirting around the elephant in the room. jeff sincerely hopes it's the former; he's not sure how much moping and pining he can take from eddie before he's just gonna have to snap and lock them in a closet together until they come strolling out covered in hickeys.

gareth and grant are noticing the tension between eddie and steve tonight too. grant's good at subtlety, but gareth wears his suspicion in the hard set to his mouth and the crease between his brows. after what happened with jason during spring break, gareth's hackles are up around anyone that's not one of theirs, and with good reason. steve, though... jeff's got an inkling that steve might be more like them than he lets on.

so maybe steve is more of a blondie guy than a black sabbath guy. so what? eddie will see to that soon enough. jeff is absolutely certain of it.

jeff has known eddie all his life. this tension with steve is absolutely going to snap eventually, and jeff cannot wait to tell his best friend that he's seen it coming. he can't wait to tease him for all these lovesick gazes and those lingering touches and the bad jokes and the absolutely outrageous nicknames (big boy, ed? c'mon, man.).

until then, jeff is so content to just watch this unfold. he's taking notes. maybe someday, when the world gets its shit together, he can stand up as eddie's best man and rib him about this in front of all their family and friends.

eddie deserves that almost as much as he deserves steve goddamned harrington.

#bee's blurbs #steddiemicrofic #charm #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff #outsider pov

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shirefantasies · 20 days

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LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

✧ It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 month

Text

"Look After You" || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Time and distance cannot break certain promises

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: Mentions of war, mental asylums, unjust imprisonment, mentions of controversial mental health treatments, cross dressing (?), implications of violence against women, illness, no betareading we go in raw

Author's note: You might have seen this post where I mention the life of Dorothy Lawrence. Well this is very loosely based on her life mixed with Tommy's story. Left it very open to a part 2 if people like the premise.

(Yes my people watch me put together moodboards instead of choosing gifs)

Requested tag (hope not to disappoint) @brummiereader @emotionalcadaver

The asylum stood tall and imponent before Tommy’s gaze, its towering central dome and flanking turrets framed by the bright sun rays of a cheerful spring afternoon. The radiant gardens contrasted dramatically with the derelict state of the building itself; rusty and broken drainpipes hanging from the roof, rotten wood frames and shattered window panes, missing chunks of brick on the walls, revealing the inner framing and plaster. Nothing about that place inspired trust to those who crossed its threshold, let alone hopes of betterment. The lamentable exterior stood like the perfect match of the decadence within.

The smell of rot assaulted him the second he entered. The paint had started to peel off, and moisture stains crawled across walls and ceiling. Most windows in the main hall were shuttered, and the incandescent light bulbs did little to cut through the darkness, casting a sickly shadow over the room. The orderly that welcomed him in the entrance had an embittered face, and he questioned Tommy on his name, whom he was visiting and his reasons to. He patted him down and overturned his pockets, making him leave behind anything that could be used to harm or be harmed. Cap, cigar case, lighter, sleeve garters and shoelaces stayed behind while another orderly led him through long hallways and endless locked doors towards the morning hall where he’d meet the purpose of his visit.

Finally, they stopped before a wide set of oaken double doors with panels of rubbed glass, which allowed him a faint peek of what happened on the other side. The orderly barely opened the door enough to enter himself and told Tommy to wait outside, as if he feared something may escape from within given the chance. After a few minutes he returned, leaving the gap open for Tommy to pass through.

“Sister Janice will take you to her. Don’t look at other patients. Don’t talk to other patients. If they come to you, ignore them. Don’t take anything they give you”

Perplexed, curious and mostly annoyed by all the delays, Tommy ducked under the orderly’s arm while he held the door open. As soon as he stepped inside the orderly let go, and the door closed behind him with a heavy click.

The sudden brightness hurt his eyes after the unceasing darkness, and Tommy had to squint briefly as his pupils grew accustomed to his surroundings. An ample hall stretched before him, arch windows spanning from floor to ceiling lining the west and north walls. Moth eaten draperies of blue velvet had been drawn back to allow sunlight in, in hopes of insufflating some life into the gelid heart of the asylum.

The room had surely once been a magnificent ballroom, but had now been reduced to the sad, dirty, abandoned alcove where the non-aggressive patients spent most of their waking hours, some engaged in the very few activities offered to them, others dragging their feet and mumbling to themselves like lost souls, their gazes absent and their appearance unkempt. Not one person appeared to have a coherent thought there, and Tommy wondered if it was due to their own ailments, or due to the medicines the nurses forced down their throats to keep them tame and peaceful, albeit stupid.

As Tommy walked past, he couldn't help but notice the way his presence drew attention from them. The patients stopped in their tracks to stare at him as if he were the most marvellous wonder they had ever seen. They pointed at him, uttering incoherences and laughing at jokes no one else heard. Some tried to get close but were forced back with a sharp gesture by the nun accompanying him, whom only now Tommy noticed, carried a mean looking leather strap, hanging side by side with a rosary from her cord belt.

At long last, she came into view. Slouched on a rocking chair facing the windows, a ragged purple cardigan thrown over a white, floor length dress, resembling more a nightgown than any sort of decent clothing. A white linen cap covered her hair, and Tommy noticed that the ties had been removed, as had been from the rest of her garments. She looked thinner, thinner even than she did in France. She gave no indication that she had noticed their presence, her dulled eyes fixated on the gardens outside.

“I have it from here, sister” Tommy dismissed the nun with a wave of his hand, dragging a nearby stool to sit next to the woman.

“I’m sorry Mr. Shelby, but I cannot allow you to be unsupervised with a patient. She seems tame now, but who knows what atrocities a woman of sin like her might commit”

Tommy wanted to snort. She barely looked strong enough to hold herself in the chair, how could she harm anyone?

“She won’t attack me sister” Tommy insisted “Now step back, and I will make sure the asylum is handsomely rewarded for your troubles.”

The nun opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then chose against it. The asylum could do with some extra coin, after all. She straightened up and smoothed her habit, perhaps a way to reinstate her authority that Tommy had so brazenly challenged.

“You have half an hour” She stated at last before walking away towards a group of patients who were seemingly arguing over a doll.

Tommy’s gaze returned to the woman in front of him, who continued to be absent from the world around her, and who gave no sign of life other than the steady rising and falling of her shoulders with each breath. Thomas allowed the pause to linger between them a few seconds longer, but he didn’t want to waste his allotted time. He wouldn’t put it past these people to drag him out like that; the laws of men did not apply in these sorts of places.

He called her name softly, in a nearly soothing whisper. Once, twice, thrice, yet it did not do to her more than the drafts howling through the broken panes or the maniac laughs of the patients around them. He didn’t want to touch her and risk startling her, but he didn’t want to spend his visit staring at her left cheek. He took his last chance, using this time a different name, a name he had not pronounced since 1915.

“Private Anders”

The name stirred something in her mind. Her back straightened a bit and her features quivered in recognition. Slowly, stiffly, she turned towards Tommy, her eyebrows first furrowing in confusion then rising in surprise.

“Sergeant Major?” Her shock could not be disguised, and she readied to rise and salute, but Tommy motioned for her to remain seated.

“At ease, private”

Tommy recalled perfectly the first day he saw her. They were stationed near Albert, digging up a new front line as they tried to gain terrain from the Germans. The troops from the British Expeditionary Force and the 179th tunnelling company consisted mostly of coal miners, all turned sappers whose task was to ready up the land for battle. The clay rich soil basically melted between their fingers when it rained, making the digging of trenches and shelters a never-ending battle. The dampness crept up their legs and seeped into their bones, and Tommy had seen one too many soldiers whose feet rotted inside their boots. Even the strongest men, used to work from sun to sun in the depths of the coal mines breathing dust and methane, would sometimes succumb to the elements.

Tommy worked paired with Tom Dunn, a man as thick of back as he was of skull. He could easily lift an adult man and throw him across the field like a sack of potatoes, and legend has it he pulled the coal carts in the mine when the horses couldn’t. If left to it, he could probably dig out the trench with only his hands and his helmet.

He had been the one to introduce Tommy to her. Dunn had hidden that little lunatic in an abandoned cottage, not too far from where the troops were stationed. Somehow, she had obtained a uniform, which she had padded with cotton wool to flatten her curves and broaden her shoulders. Her hair had been cut in a military style, scrapes on her cheeks simulated a shaving rash, and potassium permanganate attempted to sharpen her jaw and cheekbones with dark shadows.

She slept in a damp mattress, with little more than a threadbare blanket to keep her warm; she had no means of acquiring something better, nor could she light a fire in the dusty hearth for fear of being discovered. Dunn had been feeding her with whatever he could spare from his own rations or snatch from others, which meant she had been eating the minimum for survival, since the woods offered nothing but naked branches at that time of year.

Tommy had been left thunderstruck, far too much to react properly. A million questions came to his lips, and a million died there as his mind couldn’t exactly put into words what he wanted to know. His gaze flickered between them both, who looked at him pleadingly like a couple of children asking their parents to stay up late. His first instinct was to call up their superior and hand her over to them, for her own safety, but then he thought about it better. The things that could happen to her if he handed her over to the war office…and that’s it, if they handed her over in the first place, or chose to make justice themselves.

No, for the sake of her safety and his conscience, he would play along with them for now.

“What is your name?” He inquired, a simple question to cut through the gelid silence that had befallen them.

For an answer, she handed Tommy papers and a matching dog tag. Forgeries, most likely, and very good ones, which meant she spent money on those. Paying from her own pocket to go to war

They held each other's gaze for endless seconds. At long last, Tommy offered a handshake.

“Welcome to the 179th tunnelling company, Private John Anders. I’ll look after you”

Tommy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the meeting. The person who sat before him, hunched and dirty and completely lost to the world, bore no resemblance to the fiery, and perhaps a little unhinged, woman that had gone through every length to infiltrate herself in the front line. Years of memory seemed to have been erased from her mind, but she recalled vividly everything she went through in her time in France. She did not know the day and year she lived in but could easily recite the names of every man she met from the 179th, as well as every technique they implemented to dig out the clay.

Tommy was sure that, if he were to put a shovel in her hands, she would unconsciously start digging.

He had partly placated his worries by placing a nurse in the asylum, one handpicked by Polly and paid out of his own pocket, to look after her. But that solution felt like not enough. Not by a mile. What that place did to her, what they were turning her into…Killing her bit by bit, stripping away her sanity to erase from her any memory she held of those weeks in the front. He still recalled the tunnel collapse, when the rain-soaked clay began to crumble over them like cold tar, obscuring their vision and sticking their feet to the ground. How the men dragged out each other, coated from head to toe in the reddish paste. She had tripped, her foot had gotten stuck, he couldn’t tell anymore. All he knew was that she had been left behind, and he had re-entered the tunnel for her. Feeling his way through the darkness, keeping an eye on the entrance, calling her name out; her fake name, for even in the face of danger he had the mental fortitude to remember the importance of her cover up. How she dropped her own facade, her fearful voice calling him as she stretched her arm towards him.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

“Tommy!” Billowed an angered female voice, dragging his thoughts back to the present time.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, attempting to dissipate the fogs of the past that laid over them. Because he was not in the tunnels, nor in the Western front. He was sitting in his office, behind his desk, nursing a whiskey in his hands and with Polly sitting across him, equally angered and perplexed at her nephew’s inattention.

“You know I don’t appreciate my words being wasted”. It sounded like a threat, but half of the things Polly said usually did “If you had no interest in this briefing, you could have rescheduled our meeting”.

“You hate your time being wasted” Tommy pointed out.

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now” She remarked.

Silence lingered in the office while Polly lit a new cigarette and Tommy downed his drink, which had already begun to warm in his hands. He stood to pour another, which he finished almost immediately.

“So” Polly began, exhaling the smoke in an elegant blow “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” As usual, Polly could see through him as easily as one would do through a clean glass. It unnerved him sometimes, to be laid open so vulnerably under her watchful gaze.

“It’s nothing” Tommy sat before the fire; hands laced behind his head in an attempt to seem relaxed.

“There’s been many things on your mind, Tommy, and nothing has never been one of them”. Polly’s slender fingers ran across the glass bottles on the bar cart before settling on gin, pouring herself a more than generous serving.

“You’re thinking of her”.

Tommy immediately thought of denying it, but what was the point? When Polly knew, no one could tell her otherwise. And as much as he hated others meddling in his business, the words came tumbling before he could hold them back.

“I’m just worried. She’s not the same she used to be. I don’t know what they do to her in that place, but she’s changed. Those medicines they give her, and who knows what else they’ve done. You know the treatments” He shook his head, as if to dismiss everything he said “Just worried”

“It’s been many years since you last saw her. Everyone changed after the war. God knows you did”.

“This is not the same. They’re killing her there” Tommy stared up at the ceiling, as if hoping to find a solution to his problems in the plaster. Polly only watched him, pondering over her next words carefully. She only hoped she would not regret whatever her nephew chose to do next.

“If her wellbeing worries you so, you have to do the right thing”

He frowned, turning to look at her with confusion clear in his eyes. Polly sipped the gin, swirling it around her mouth as she gave it a last thought. This was one of the far and few times in which Tommy proved he had a heart, and that softened her as well.

“If you are worried, you act. If they’re killing her in there, you get her out”

The sun had finally shone upon the soldiers after nearly a week of bad weather, when rain and fog had turned the living conditions in the trenches into nearly inhumane. The soldiers were happy, for they would no longer shiver until their bones ached, and they would at last be able to put their clothes and themselves to dry. The tunnellers were less than pleased, for the sun had dried the clay into a solid wall, forcing them to exhaust their muscles to dig out chunks the size of their heads while the sweat ran down their temples and backs. Their comrades kept them supplied with water, but it felt like pouring water on a bottomless bucket.

Tommy worked side by side with her. Him. Her. Her identity still got tied in his mind, and he had to think through every word addressed in her direction for fear of blowing her cover. He watched her out of the corner of the eye as she swung the pickaxe with a strength and determination he never expected to see in a woman. Despite her resilience, Tommy worried about her, and kept a watchful gaze for any sign of exhaustion. She could not afford to be taken ill or injured, for a trip to the medical tent would be enough to unravel all her carefully crafted lies. He had to take care of her.

They both worked in the very end of the trench, and the sounds around them would conceal any hushed conversation. Tommy’s curiosity was stronger than his willpower

“Why?”

She didn’t react at first, and Tommy thought she either didn’t listen to him, or chose to ignore him, both of which were valid. But before he could ask again, she whispered back, keeping her manly tone

“Why what?”

“Why come here? What sane person would come here, on her own free will, to be forced into coldness and starvation? Risk your life, and for what purpose? Couldn’t find good places to dig back in England?”

She snorted, the sound quite lighter than any man’s laugh, so she concealed it by clearing her throat

“I wanted to serve my country, same as you. Is there any sin on that?”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep?”

She stopped digging for a moment, leaving the pickaxe embedded in the clay. She sat in the upturned bucket they used as stool, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. She couldn’t work shirtless, and their uniforms had been made to shield from the cold only. Tommy offered her water; she drank a sip and poured the rest on her head. He noticed her hair had grown again, and curled behind her ears. He made a mental note to give her a trim after nightfall.

“I just wanted to see what it was like. What it really was. They don’t tell us the truth back home. The newspapers make it sound as if the front is almost peaceful and the men are just laying back eating turkey while the Germans fall a hundred a day. I wanted the truth, and I want to write about it. Make a book of all the lies they fed us home.”

Her reasoning didn’t sit well with him. All that effort, that trouble, that risk, just to figure out if war was as bad as she thought? Mad, mad in the head this one.

“And what does your family think you’re doing away from home?”

She scratched her chin, in the same way Tommy did when he got a shaving rash from his blunt razors. She had picked up male mannerisms quite fast, particularly his own

“Not much family left to care what I do or stop doing. I said I’d come to France to volunteer as a nurse, but they most likely think I came as a camp follower. If they knew what I’m up to, they would have me committed to the closest madhouse”

“The madhouse is where you belong” Tommy replied, albeit jokingly, as he stopped his work to pull out a cigarette from his pocket. But he was interrupted by a ball of clay being tossed at his face with masterful precision, dampened for maximum effect.

“Shut up, Sergeant Major”

Blue skies and a pleasant breeze welcomed them at the gates of Arrow House. Tommy chose to drive this time, taking the advice from the doctor who would oversee her care, who suggested she be exposed to the least amount of people possible during the first days as she adjusted to life outside. Only Tommy, Frances and the nurse who would be her primary caretaker.

She stared at the world around her with such wonder, like a blind whose sight had been restored. Every tree, every bird, the very landscape that surrounded his manor brought such wonder onto her face, like a child with a Christmas tree. Her happiness almost managed to convince him that this was, in fact, a good idea.

When Polly told him to get her out, he knew she meant to put her in a home of her own, with a caretaker, and allow her to have a life of her own. And Tommy considered the idea, for a while. To place her in a nice neighbourhood, in a house with a garden and a balcony where she could enjoy the sun, with a nurse and maids and a car. But it didn’t sit right with him. She had been alone ever since they took her. Imprisoned until the war ended, and then released only to be taken to the madhouse at first chance. Not one familiar face around her for nearly a decade. No, Tommy wouldn’t take her out of a cage just to put her back in a smaller, prettier one. She needed someone to protect her. And for better or worse, that one could only be Tommy.

When the car came to a halt, she was the first one out, gaping at the imponent state which Tommy owned.

“Is this where you live, Sergeant Major?” The wonder was palpable in her voice. But the only thing Tommy noticed was that after everything she still couldn’t find it in her to call him by his name.

“2000 acres of land, of which 12 are just garden, and 750 acres of farming land”

She cocked an eyebrow, and in the amused twinkle of her eyes Tommy saw a glimpse of the one she used to be.

“Are you a farmer now, sir?” She disguised her laugh behind the handkerchief she insisted on carrying, looking down like a bashful schoolgirl.

Tommy pulled out a cigarette; he felt the corner of his lips pulled into the shadow of a smile, pleased to see her spirits lifted.

“My business is more focused on progress and modernity, but I wouldn’t reject the idea. Perhaps one day it’ll come in hand to have crops and cows”

“That would be the bloody day” She didn’t even try to hide her laughter this time “Our mighty Sergeant Major, dressed in overalls and with mud up to his knees shovelling cow shit”

“I find myself more interested in horse shit these days. Come on, I’ll show you around”

Tommy gave her a complete tour of the house and adjacent grounds, both to show her everything that would be at her complete disposal, and also as a way to show off how far he had come since they were both in the trenches, hunched over a meagre fire lit inside an empty can and sharing a homemade cigarette made from tobacco leftovers. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her fingers running over tapestries, leathers and carved wood with childlike wonder

He saved her room for last. A wide bedroom at the very back of the house, situated in a corner with plenty of windows. It had a view of the back of the state, so she could enjoy the gardens, the horses and the surrounding woods. In the corner with the most sunlight Tommy had placed a writing desk, supplied with paper, pens, ink and a brand new typewriter. Amidst everything sat a bunch of old and worn pages, all of different sizes and materials, kept together nicely with leather cord. She picked it up gingerly, running her thumb over the first page. Even though the paper was stained and dusty, the words could be read as easily as the first day she wrote them.

Tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged the improvised diary to her chest like it was a most prized possession. And perhaps it was. She turned towards Tommy, a mixture of bewilderment and eternal gratitude plastered on her features

“Where did you get it? I thought they would have had it destroyed when they locked me up”

Tommy only smirked, pulling out a cigarette from the golden case he carried “Remember what I told you? Always make sure someone owes you something”

That gesture, so small yet so meaningful, shifted something inside her. Her eyes brimmed with tears she attempted to fight, but they won in the end. She practically jumped into Tommy’s arms, hugging him with the eagerness of a person who has been denied a caring touch for far too long.

“How will I ever be able to thank you enough, Sergeant Major?”

His free arm circled her frame, returning the gesture

“You can start by calling me Tommy”

Worry crept up Tommy’s spine as the higher ups did their rounds to inspect the work on the freshly dug trenches. It had been three days since she last showed up, and he would soon run out of lies to cover up for “Private Anders’” absence.

As much as she tried to deny it, finally the harsh conditions had caught up to her. Her health had gone down a slippery slope with the arrival of winter. First it had been just a fretless dry cough, easily softened with pine tea. But then came the bone pains, the headaches, the constant fatigue. The dampness of her safe haven had seeped into her bones and caused some sort of rheumatism. Tommy noticed the swelling of her hands as they struggled to grip the pickaxe. Her hair began to fall out in clumps.

The shivers and the fever had finally knocked her off her feet. She had been unable to leave her cottage, which in turn worsened her condition even further. Tommy had tried to bring her something more substantial to eat, but she seemed unable to eat more than a few bites of stale bread dipped in some coffee the Americans had given them. Dry, suffocating coughs racked her body until she had to gasp for air, her teeth and lips speckled with blood.

“This is the end line” She had mumbled weakly during the third night, while Tommy tried to desperately convince her to light a fire to warm and dry the place

“No. You are not going to die. I won’t allow it. I told you I’d take care of you” He stated firmly, sitting on the floor by her side with her hand in his, his other one cupping her feverish cheek. He had been in a similar spot, not too long ago. Watching life fade away from a young woman’s eyes. He refused to let her die, not like that, not there where he would have to dump her body in the river.

“I am not going to die” She stated with a conviction her current condition didn’t match “But to survive, I have to turn myself in”

The idea of handing her over to the war office filled Tommy with panic

“No, no you cannot do that. Do you have any idea what they could do to you? Your best prospect would be to be thrown in jail, to be given 10 years for impersonating a soldier. And that’s if the higher ups are feeling compassionate” He shuddered at thinking what those wolves would do to her “Listen, I get leave tomorrow night. I’ll go to the nearest town, get some medicine, maybe I can pawn some things and get you a new blanket. You-”

“No” With great effort, she propped herself up in one elbow. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the strands of hair left in the pillow “I’ve implicated you long enough. The excuses and lies you have made for me are enough to have you dishonourably discharged and tried. You have done everything you could for me, and for that I am forever indebted to you, Sergeant Major. This next chapter in my life, I have to write it alone”

She sounded dejected and disappointed, as if she had failed some unwritten expectation of her adventure. But Tommy thought quite the opposite. He only felt admiration for the things she had put herself through in order to tell her story. He still thought she was mad in the head, but in a completely different way

“Will you mention my name when you write your book?” He asked jokingly, helping her lay back down slowly, pulling the ragged blanket up to her chin

“Only if you want to be jailed next to me for helping an intruder” She laughed, but the sound was cut short by another fit of coughing “I’ll dedicate it to you, Sergeant Major. Everything I write and do will be because of you”

Tommy awoke with a startle. His eyes were wide open, darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the disturbance. Everything seemed to be calm in his room. And then it happened again. A dry thud in the wall, followed by a muffled scream.

In a heartbeat he was out of bed, gun in hand. He followed the noises, which seemed to grow louder the closer he got to her bedroom. The door was ajar, allowing a sliver of moonlight to project in the floor, in which Tommy could see two shadows moving.

He stormed inside, gun ready to fire. But he didn’t find an intruder, no. Just her, on her knees, banging her fists against the wall as she screamed. Her nurse stood by her side, amidst a disaster of clothes and books and other objects, unsuccessfully trying to coax her back to bed

“Miss, please. The hour is quite late. You need sleep”

“No, no. The walls are coming down. We have to get out, the roof’s collapsing!” She yelled desperately, clawing at the wall trying to dig herself out of some dark place that only existed in her head. He saw her nails tear the wallpaper with ferocity. And then he noticed the nurse unlocking a cabinet and pulling out a syringe

“No” He said almost immediately as he put a firm hand on the nurse’s arm “Go to bed. I have this”

“But Mr. Shelby!”

“I said go. Leave me with her”

The nurse doubted, holding his gaze, but chose to exit the room, closing the door behind her.

Tommy walked towards her slowly, afraid he would startle her. He gingerly touched her arm, but his presence went as unnoticed as a speck of dust. He called out her name, again and again, without success. The mud had seeped deep in her brain, as it had done his, and blocked her senses from the outside world. In order to get through, Tommy had to get into the mud with her

He stood tall, in martial position, hands behind his back

“Private Anders!”

Quick like a lightning bolt, she stood up and saluted in a firm position. Tears streaked her face and her entire body quivered like an autumn leaf

“Sergeant Major sir!”

“At ease, private. You are relieved of your duties. Time to go back home”

Like the lifting of a spell, her eyes glossed over as she blinked slowly, looking around her from the bed, to the things she had thrown around in haste, and finally towards Tommy. Her lower lip quivered

“What is happening to me?”

Her knees faltered. Tommy lunged forward before she could hit herself, coming down to the floor with her held in his arms. She burrowed herself in his chest, her fingers clinging to his shirt as she wept, her body racked by sobs. Tommy shushed her quietly, his fingers carding through her hair

“Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #marsie writes #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

Text

“Everything’s in the cloud now,” I shout at the hot air balloonist over the sound of the burners. Sun glints off my snub-nose .38. “I was never smart enough to be a hacker before.”

Phineas Fogg looks behind him. "Uh-uh," I gently scold, and shake the gun for emphasis. "That went overboard a long time ago." He looks glumly over the edge of the basket, hoping to see his Passenger Removal Blackjack. It's a a desperate hope, one that it was simply misplaced by me, rather than yote parabolically into a nearby state fair from 8,000 feet. "Now drive."

"Fucking Missouri," he spits, and he's right. In any other state, this would be a felony. Balloonists are like gods there, unimpeachable even by law enforcement. Here, the gods meet mortals, and they don't like it.

We float higher and higher as he works what I have determined to be a crude throttle. The fire is beautiful, but I know that I cannot allow myself to be distracted by the purging of hydrocarbons. These balloony-types are crafty, having fought their way out of the vicious canvas wars of their disgusting home country. I know that if I take my eyes off the prize for one second, he'll try something.

Indeed he does. We pass briefly over an attractive red-and-white circus tent, itself an overinflated artifact of a bygone age of freaks. My unwilling travelling companion takes the opportunity to leap out of the basket, falling hundreds of feet. He bursts through the roof of the tent, landing squarely in a conveniently-placed bale of hay. Figures, I grunt to myself, but then I notice that he's not moving. No doubt the Barnum Bros have gotten themselves a cost-cutting MBA, who has decided that rocks painted like hay is sufficient enough to convince the rubes that the elephants are eating well and treated well, in equal measure.

I have caught myself in quite the pickle, I realize, as I look at the crude array of burners, levers, strings, springs, and apertures that lay before me. Saturday morning cartoons have taught me that this contraption operates the balloon's height, but its exact nature is unclear to me. Safe for the moment, I decide to take advantage of the surprising-but-welcome solitude and meditate on the issue, sitting cross-legged in the bottom of the basket and pivoting my thoughts towards the eternal expanse of human ingenuity. Carburetors of my youth come unbidden to my mind's eye on this vision quest, and soon I have discovered the common ancestor of this gas-burping nightmare and my precious Plymouth Volare's single-barrel, ethanol-rotted Ball & Ball.

Opening my eyes, it is very clear to me now what I must do. I floor the fucker. An enormous wall of flame bursts from the burners, singing my eyebrows. I laugh, and rise into the sky. Up there, in the clouds, the banks dwell. I am coming for them.

#best of

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afreakingdork · 1 month

Text

Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

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